Spirit of the Forest: The Return of the Lost One
by Avion Jade
Summary: Enter into Arda and walk with the mysterious elf named Laitheryn as he searches for his past and his identity in his travels around Middle Earth.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **

I will only write this once but it's meant for the whole story. I do not own Lord of the Rings or the characters therein, merely I borrow them for a short while as playthings in my own twisted imagination come to life within my story.

I have seen this idea done several times already and got inspired to try my own hand at this type of story. Thus if it resembles several other well written stories of a similar topic, this has not been done deliberately on my part and I apologize in advance for any similarities to other stories already out there.

"Speaking"

Thoughts'

_"Mind Communication"_

* * *

Where to begin?

His graceful hand lifting slowly from the curved blank page, as his thoughts stalled for a moment on that single question; where to begin? While the other hand absently brushed strands of his golden hued hair away from his face and tucked it behind one pointed ear.

Outside, the soft sun danced on the trees and shimmered into his window, when a path could be found through the shielding trees. And still the window, decorated with coloured drapes cast the illusion of leaves on the floor of his room. He could hear the young ones laughs as they chased their queries through the court yard and through the trees. The birds sang and noises of the forest became like a symphony for those that knew how to listen to it. The trees voices echoing through the glade, singing, enjoying the temporary relief from the coming darkness; still celebrating the return of someone they had thought lost many years before. Not only the trees celebrated but the elves that lived in union with them did too. Feasts and other merry making, songs and competitions testing speed, endurance and skill with long range targets and short range fighting; all who could participated in, including his father.

Where to begin when there were so many places he could begin from. From the start of his life or from the start of his adventures in Arda; and as he looked back on the more recent past he wasn't sure where it truly began, if the beginning could not have a starting place, but many.

Should he begin at his beginning, his birth? But that story had already been told, or at his supposed death from the hideous spiders which haunted the fair forest for so long; the ones that had killed his Mother? Or his escape by throwing himself into a raging river in a corner of the forest he did not know.

He decided that would be the beginning. The river. And lowered his quill to the parchment to begin to write, thoughts flowing from his hand like the river that flowed around him; seeking to pull him into its icy depths and keep him locked there forever. He paused suddenly, looking back on his life, and dropped the quill.

The cold had been like nothing he had ever felt. It shocked him, when he jumped in, to avoid the painful death from the spiders that had given him chase. And he was swept away, not strong enough to swim against the current and back to a shore. He remembered the panic of fighting for the surface so many times that even with his enhanced elven memory he could not count. And the seeming eternity that passed until strong arms circled him and pulled him from the cold grip of the stream. He was barely conscious, suffering from the one bite that he had suffered from the small spider that had caught up with him. It had pinned him and bit him once before he instinctively kicked at its stomach and sent it flying back. All he saw, before the darkness claimed him, was that he was not in the forest anymore. Instead a field, separated only by sparse trees and mountains stood barely visible to even him.

And he awoke, in a bed, covered by a thick blanket. An elderly woman sat at his side, and smiled down at him. Her smile had reminded him of someone, but he could not remember who. He remembered crying at that moment, scared as no answer came to her gentle questions. She had asked for his name, he did not remember. She asked where he came from, that too was blank but for a fleeting impression of dark green trees. That image faded instantly and he was unsure if he had remembered it or it had been a flight of fantasy. He did not bother mentioning it to the healer.

He cried in her arms, still a young child by their count. He was over three centuries old at that point but resembled a child of five at the most. All he knew from that point on of his parents was that the smile of the woman that kept him alive for the weeks he had been ill, reminded him of someone that he had been close too. But he could never explain how that smile made him feel a pressing sadness too, as if a buried memory attached itself to some grief that he could not remember.

And from that point on, and indeed until he met his father again, he did not know who he was or where he came from, even his name laid blank. But sometimes when he laid quiet under the spell of the few trees around the tiny village he resided in he could almost hear his true name being whispered in his mind. The village elder gave him a human name, Girrak, as nothing else could be deemed as his name; nor did this village have contact with Elves that could have at least given him a name from his people; for the centuries he had spent in that village, he went by that name. And there he stayed, raised by countless generations of the same family that had saved him from the rivers touch. He could close his eyes and flashes of their faces danced across his memories.

He remembered at six centuries, holding a newborn baby human in his arms, and having the funny feeling that soon this little human would soon be his caregiver. How the small infant would soon grow up and be older than he. He had looked ten. He had never been mistreated by the village or the family he lived with, as all loved the first born race on Arda. But inside he knew he was different, knew he would never be like these pleasant humans that patiently raised him and guided him along until he was old enough to be out on his own.

And in between his six and seventh century he discovered trees and their voices. He realized that it was not his imagination whispering across his mind when he concentrated on a tree, but its individual voice; he recalled nearly falling out of said tree he had been resting in when the sleepy voice answered his unconscious thought into it. The tree had claimed that it had been several hundred years since the last being had spoken to it, and had understood its answer. And that started his love of the trees. When he was done his chores for the day, he would always sneak away to that glade to speak with that tree again. They had become friends.

And from that discovery of the voices within trees he had slowly started to hear all the voices of nature, he could understand them but could not speak to the animals the way he could to the trees. He would wander away and spend several hours a day in their company, listening to their stories and learning about their past. They were his second teachers. And through them he learned many things about nature that humans could never know. The one thing he cherished the most was their gradual reintroduction of the elvish languages into his dialogue. He had been so young when he had last heard elvish and hearing it once more reassured him that he did belong somewhere, even if it wasn't here. Sadly he had almost forgotten the languages his people spoke as he spent time with the humans. And so in the company of the sparse tree, he slowly learned to rely on the trees for camouflage and to move as they did, undetected by all whom passed looking for him; he had always felt at home lying on a tree branch watching the flickering light of the sun dance in patterns on their leaves.

The village men had trained them as best they could in combat with a sword, but none had ever seen hard times, neither by a war with other greedy men or by the series of dark things that began to slowly sweep across the plains at night, did not have much to offer him; but he never forgot their sincerity or their lack of trying. Oddly he never grew to love fighting with a sword but despite this dislike he soon bested his teachers, in both weapons training and learned all he could from the healers and other people that claimed to hold much knowledge in the village.

And just under a millennia of age and around the human standard age of fifteen, he traveled away from the tired little village and at the cluster of trees that sat above a hill he turned and bade goodbye to the place that had become a home to him. And bade goodbye to an old friend, the first tree that had awoken to his minds' touch and had whispered back to him that sunny day when he had been so young. He did not forget the trees almost prophetic answer to him when it learned he was leaving.

_'I must leave, my friend. Be well.'_

_'Stay well, Child of the Forest. You will find you past in the Great Forest. Seek the company of your own.'_

_'Such odd words for such a sad time. But I will listen to your words, I will seek my past.'_

_'Do_ _not be sad…You're call awoken me from a deep sleep, and I cherish the time we were together. Goodbye tree friend. May your journey be blessed.'_

_'May the Valar keep you well.'_ He had unconsciously responded.

He overlooked the village one last time before leaping from his perch and running swiftly away from the only home he could remember, not looking back; afraid that if he did he would louse his nerve and return there to live in obscurity for the next millennia.

And so began his travels, in the deepest wilds of Arda. Learning as he went from those mortal and immortal alike that he met on the way. It was in a dark forest glade that he first met a human ranger. He circled the odd human warily looking for any sign that he should have to fight. The darkly dressed human regarded him, arms held away from his numerous weapons in a non threatening manner, and then to his surprise spoke to him calmly assuring that he had no interest in a fight.

Soon he let down his guard and they became friends, sharing camp together and swapping stories. He had hesitantly let it be known that this was his first journey away from his home and he did not have much combat training. Here he met his third teacher, one that instructed him in short arms combat with daggers instead of a sword, and was the first one to introduce him to a bow and quiver. They traveled together for many moons; until they reached the golden forests of Lorien.

And within the glowing depths of the golden forest he met the first of his kind in nearly six centuries. It was an awkward meeting, both circling each other, feinting in both hand to hand combat as well as in their answers and questions of one another.

The elf had spotted him napping in a tree and tried to ambush him when he apparently did not recognize him as friend. This had failed, as the tree gave a warning of an impending attack to the dozing elf and just before the elder elf could get to him he lunged backwards onto the next lowest tree branch. Both adversaries stood watching each other. He recalled looking upwards, into the dark eyes of the elder elf. His long blonde hair allowed to fall straight down his back, was a lighter colour than his, more silver than gold, and his eyes a darker blue. Then dodging another lunge he tracked backwards through the trees with the elder chasing him, not really interested in escaping capture, he had just wanted to test his skills against someone raised by elves. And what a run it had been. Eventually the two slowed down, standing on opposite trees in a clearing, watching each other once more.

But soon word came from the lord and lady of Lorien that he was welcome here and to be allowed access to the forest whenever he would come. And so the now friendly elf escorted him through the trees, talking as if he was an old lost friend. He recalled being incredibly confused by the change in the elder elf; he had gone from being treated as a possible enemy to now a friend. Soon he understood why, news of his entry into Lorien had spread from the trees to others and the elder elf had been sent to distract him while the lord and lady decided on their course of action, strangers were not often allowed into the golden woods. The strange elf had introduced himself as Haldir and soon introduced his two brothers.

There had been so many introductions at that moment. He was still busy, half listening to the joyful call of the elves and to the equally joyful call of the trees that were their home.

And what a home it was. Everything that lived in the realm looked as if the sun had blessed it with its pale colour; from the trees, their beautiful leaves, their gleaming bark, to the animals and even to the elves that lived within. All seemed to glow, a shower of dark to light golden colours which blended into the iridescent radiance that resided in the trees. Winter had never touched these trees and he remembered hoping that it never would. The elves, the ones he could see, had golden hair, much like the elf he had met in the woods, he could barely see running from tree to tree as if each branch was the forest floor. As comfortable with trees as he was, and their voices rose in song to the trees. And the trees sang back, to the delight of the elves; speaking of his coming to the golden woods. And as he watched them, he absently played with a strand of his hair; he remembered fingering the gold locks. Darker in colour than those that he had watched he and realizing that he did not belong here either. While he was among kin, this was not where he was from. His search for his past was just beginning.

And it was on the balcony, overlooking the tops of several smaller trees that he met the lord and lady; that the trees sang most of. They approached from behind so quietly that he barely heard their coming. Turning he had stopped for barely a moment, awed at what he saw.

The lord was dressed in the palest white robes he had ever seen, as if these robes had been spun that day and had never seen any use before this. Within the white he picked up the palest glimmer of sparkles of silver that reflected into his wise silver eyes and almost silver appearing hair, so gold that it was nearly white, but silver too. He could not think of the words to describe the awe of the lord. Their eyes met for but a moment, mid blue and wise silver, and he was sure he saw a flicker of recognition within their depths. The elders face then donned a relived look for but a moment and then a gentle smile.

He moved his gaze to the lady. She too was donned in a pale white dress that flickered and danced in the gentle wind and reflected an almost blue colour into his eyes. Her dark gold hair, similar to his colour than the elves of this wood, danced also in the soft breeze that blew over them. Their eyes met too and her gaze softened and a smile graced her face.

Both lord and lady gave off a silver radiance which came from their own selves. And he remembered bowing to them, unsure of where the knowledge of how to bow came from and the realization that he was meeting elves much greater than himself. Straightening up he watched in shock as the lord inclined his head to him, an informal bow and the lady curtsied to him.

"Welcome, young one." She whispered. "Long have I wished to meet you, and the coming of the ones that will serve in the fellowship."

"My lady?" he questioned.

"That remains in the future, little one. Do not concern yourself with it yet. I am Galadriel. I welcome you to the elven realm Caras Galadhon."

"And I am Celeborn. I too wish to welcome you to our realm. You may come and go as you please, as our honored guest."

"Is this where I belong?" He remembered asking, already pretty sure of the answer.

"You are already aware of the answer to that question, little one. This is not where you belong. Your search for your past must continue. But tarry with us for some time, and you will be trained further with the weapons of your choice as well as in our customs and the customs of our neighboring elven realms. Indeed the captain of our guards, Haldir, has already expressed interest in training with you. He mentioned something about your natural ability and your strong connection with nature. I see in your future that you will need such skills, both as a warrior and as a diplomat."

"As you request, I will stay."

"A place shall be made ready for you. We shall send for you when it is ready." Lord Celeborn answered.

"I thank you, my Lord." He remembered once again bowing to the pair.

"You're tongue is truly dipped in honey." The lady responded with a laugh.

"As well said for charming hosts."

As the two left he recalled hearing the lady's laughter echoing to his sensitive ears. And so began his stay in Lorien. On the eve of his first night in the golden city the Lord blessed him with an elven name, finding for some reason humor in the situation of an elf named as a human.He was renamed Laitheryn which would translate to Spirit Forest in the language of the west. And yet as he received his second elven name, something inside him cried that this name too was not right. He had listened to the voice, but could not answer its cries at that moment.

His stay in Caras Galadhon lasted two more centuries, and learned much more than ever before and not in just the arms of war, but in tree lore and elf lore as well as the development of his particular gift with the trees, not just learning their language but learning how to call them to his defense when needed.

His many friends were sore to see him leave, but he, on the eve of this second century deemed it time. He was happy in Lorien, content to stay among kin and learn their ways; but here too, he knew, he did not belong.

He had heard much of the two other elven realms, enough to know that Lord Elronds' realm, while more accepting of outsiders, which tempted him into traveling there first, it was not situated in a forest, and his most cherished dreams of his past, were of flickers of the sun through a huge green canopy.

As he had heard Imladris (or Rivendell as spoken in the West), was situated in a mountain valley, with a gliding river spotting between. Homes that looked more like they were carved from more the passing of time then skilled hands, shone golden in the sun. Not as golden as Caras Galadhon but still the shimmer of the light of the Elves touched their lands. And instead of an eternal summer the lands there seemed to be locked in constant spring. Their lands were open with no forests; and his only memory and where he felt more comfortable was in the deep forests of Arda.

And of the Elves in Imladris, they were more of a darker tone than his, for the most part. There were exceptions to that, such as the balrog slayer Glorfindel. But generally their hair was between the colours of earthy brown to the darkest midnight and their eyes shone like dark stars. They were more open to human travels and even dwarfs were known to be allowed into the splendid halls.

The third Elven realm, in common tongue it was known as Greenwood or Mirkwood; the Elves named it Eryngalen. This was the realm that he had dreaded traveling to. As he had learned it was situated within the sheltering trees of an unmeasured forest that shone in pale browns and greens. Its palace and largest city barely visible within the hidden glade in the center of the forest; but other than that there was not much known about the most distinct elven realm, and less about the people dwelling within. And as the centuries passed, it appeared that the realm would continue to drift apart from their kin.

The Elves dwelling within were mid toned, having hair that went from light earthy tones to golden blonde, much like him. And the majority had blue or silver eyes. But it was their abhorrence of strangers that had troubled him, even if he could somehow gain entrance into Mirkwood it was more likely that he would be turned away by the Elven scouts that constantly patrolled its borders. Or arrested and given over for questioning. The rumors he had heard of the King of Greenwood were that he was a cold elf; cold, stubborn and set in his ways.

Back then he remembered doubting that the King would be overly patient with a stranger that came seeking answers and looking for his past, especially if said Elf could not even give his true name. If he approached under those standards it was likely he would end up in the dungeons.

He recalled his extreme hesitation when it became apparent that the most logical place to search for his past was also the place he feared traveling to.

He could laugh at those notions now. How untrue they were. Suddenly looking down, he realized that he had filled several pages with his thoughts, and the hours had passed without his knowledge. The sun was now setting and lighting the pale green leaves up and shadowing the horizon with pale purples, vibrant reds and other colours that the Elves with all their talents could not bear to make. Nature was truly amazing. Sliding from his desk he approached the open window and slipped onto the balcony, he shared with his father, to watch the remainder of the falling of the sun, soon the moon would rise to chase the sun once more. Their rooms were separate, but close enough to share one area outside, overlooking a wildflower garden.

A moment later he realized he was not alone. He turned and watched his father make a graceful enterence onto their shared balcony from his separate room. The taller elf slipped from his door to stand next to his son, and they both shared a smile and returned their gazes to the display of the sun.

"How was your day, Ada?"

The addressed elf smiled despite himself. "Busy as usual. And you ion Nin?"

"Moderately busy."

"Come, let us retire and share supper. I have missed your company today."

"And I you." He responded following his father into his chambers, where supper was laid out.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed reading this and will drop a line to tell me what you think of my writing.

Well this is the beginning in what I hope to be a long arc, with other stories branching off in detail what was skipped fairly quickly in this chapter. But for now this is the frame work story.

Ja'ne

Avion Jade


	2. Chapter 2

He remembered his last days under the golden trees of Lorien; the sun dawned as it had for the last two centuries, following its eternal course through the sky, chasing the moons' pale light. Laitheryn recalled the slivers of gold dancing on the leaves, cascading down in shadows to the ground and those that stood watching the display. As the waking trees drifted in the soft breeze the shadows danced in a symphony with the songs echoing through the trees.

He lived above ground, in homes that stretched throughout the treetops and connected with shimmering white bridges to other dwellings. It was not necessary to walk on the ground; you could easily reach your destination by following the bridges through the passageways made by the trees and never touch the earth. Laitheryn preferred to make his own path, jumping from tree to tree and sometimes the ground. His independence had been encouraged by those around him.

He had been living there for around two centuries; each day was filled with new discoveries. The elves around him had gradually switched from speaking the common tongue, to their own languages and his vocabulary in both Sindarin and Quenya grew. High elven was not as common now as it had been in the long past with most elves only having a rough understanding of the lost language, but both the lord and lady insisted he become fluent. Rising to the occasion, but not understanding their resolve, he had exceeded their expectations. Quenya was not a common tongue, even among elves anymore; instead it was only used for high matters, among royalty and for song and lore.

He also learned of the first born's past, and the separate tribes they had split into during the call from the Valar that broke the race apart, some in Valinor and some staying in Arda. And their return and seeming fall from grace of those that followed Feanor out of Valinor, wishing the return of the lost silmarillion after the dying of the trees of light. Laitheryn learned their most painful past the one all wished no part in, their involvement in the kinslaying on the shores of Valinor. The high elves were now exiled in Arda.

Assuming he did hale Greenwood as birth home, then Laitheryn had no problems tracing his possible ancestry, save the exact knowledge on how he came to be where he was, with no one the wiser. There were few reports between Greenwood and Lorien, and none that entailed a lost elfling as he had once been. There was no mention of any youth lost from the great forest.

Along with his intense studies into the far past, Laitheryn had learned the traditions of the three elven realms in existence, as well as the customs that existed in the realms of the other races that lived on Arda. He was skilled in diplomacy and, with much patience on the part of his teachers, politics.

Laitheryn had been given private lessons by his tutor so his presence would not disrupt the younger ones during their lessons. He had known that when starting this journey to knowledge he would be behind his age in knowledge, but this had not stopped him from trying. Because of the near millennia he had spent with the humans, he had lost that time to learn and was just now beginning to make headway. The Lord and Lady always took a great interest in his studies, as if they were preparing him for some task or role in life that they alone were aware of.

But he had not spent all of his time buried in a book, only the mornings and up to the early afternoons. For the rest of the day he would train with off duty members of the scouting party, who were perpetually guarding the lines of Caras Galadhon. They had continued his lessons in swordsmanship and with sharp daggers and knives. Despite their expert instruction Laitheryn still preferred daggers to swords and soon he had progressed enough that he could easily fight with both hands. They had introduced him to the bow and arrow, and eventually he became a better shot then the majority and tied with their best. A bow and arrow became his favourite weapon, and soon he learned to store his daggers in the quiver he specifically made for them.

But life was not all work, without play. Elves loved dancing and singing, and when the mood hit them, small parties would gather to exchange stories and song over food and drinks. These small parties would soon overwhelm the gentle treetops with their chatter and soon all of the elves would find themselves joining in with their songs, dancing and merry making. There were moments of laughter, of joy and of sadness.

Laitheryn recalled one moment, when in a strange mood Rumil and Orophin played a trick on him and dumped what seemed to be an entire pond of water on him. What he had not known at the time was the water was dyed with herbs and plants, turning his skin, hair and clothes pitch black. Laitheyn had been relaxing under a shadowing tree, who had been a second to late in its warning and when he awoke he was soaked to the skin and very unhappy about the situation. He had been scaling back to his dwelling when he passed Haldir, returning from patrol. Both had been distracted and landed nearly in the same spot in the same tree. Laitheyn avoided the collision by jumping up to the next branch, moved by the responsive tree to his aid. Haldir had not been as lucky and due to his shock of seeing a shadow come to life, had missed the branch landing and slammed into the tree instead. He would have fallen, had Laitheryn not caught him and swung him up to his level; where the stunned, and obviously confused Haldir, stared at him for barely a second before yelling and going for his sword, hanging at his waist. It had taken Laitheryn several minutes to convince the spooked warrior that he was who he said he was, and not some enemy. Eventually Haldir had his answers and both had sworn revenge on the brothers.

Several moons later, Rumil and Orophin discovered it was not worth the effort to try to match wits with the intelligent pair. It had taken the revenge prank weeks to set up, including convincing all the elves around, who had heard of the unfortunate first victim and having been on the receiving end of jokes too, to help them out. It had started with getting the pair quite drunk, helped along with a brewed sleeping potion and then switching their rooms and wardrobe around, even switching the individual elves around too. For the entire day after Rumil was called Orophin and Orophin by his brothers' name, despite their protests. When they did speak up, they were stared at as if they had taken leave of their senses. It had taken the practical joke duo hours to figure out exactly what had occurred.

Of course his stay in Lorien was tempered by visitors from the other elven realms; including to his dismay the visit of the twin sons' of Elrond, who were the Imladris versions of Rumil and Orophin. When the four of them were together, Laitheryn swore the entire population of Caras Galadhon winced. He and Haldir, the most obvious targets of their jokes, made themselves very scarce during that visit. He had also met the daughter of Elrond, Arwen. She too took great interest in hiding from her brothers' pranks and soon the three were well acquainted.

Another visitor from Greenwood gave brief acknowledgement to the curious elves gathered to see him and nothing else. He was here, on duty to discuss trade and relations. The only interesting thing Laitheryn discovered during that visit was he and that strange elf had a similar tone of honey gold hair. Another proof that led him to believe he originally descended from an elf in the great forest.

The final visitor; and one he was quite fond of, who turned up quite unexpectedly and quite often was Mithrandir, the grey pilgrim. When the odd, but extremely friendly human made an appearance, despite the reason it threw the entire residence into a party. One day Mithrandir had sought him out exclusively and they spent several hours talking together and sharing experiences of the outside world. The Istar had left in the company of Celeborn. Laitheryn had overheard some of their conversation as they bade him farewell and the words had puzzled him. Mithrandir had remarked to the lord of Lorien that he was alike to someone in appearance and temper, but different in his acceptance of others and patience.

Laitheryn was happy here, content in the knowledge that he had friends and almost a family here. Haldir, Rumil and Orophin had become his brothers and close friends. The Lord and Lady seemed to view him as an esteemed nephew and treated him as if he had some title that cast him into a similar role as they. He was comfortable here and this was a home for him and he would always be welcomed here and treated as family, but this was not the home he was looking for. Despite belonging here his heart longed for the nearly forgotten dream image of green leaves dancing in the dark shadows of the noon day sun. And when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the shadows of the green leaves on his uncovered face and the scent of the living forest. It was time he move on in his search for his past.

He would head to Greenwood first, as this is what he recalled in his fondest and most distant memories, to seek answers of his own. As a foreigner with no knowledge of his past and no real reason to enter their guarded borders, it was likely he would be asked to leave or sent to be questioned by the Elvenking. Laitheryn had decided he would press his topic and his odd reason for entering their realm without permission until he was allowed to speak his part. However the king's ill temper would probably see his insistence paid off by a trip to the dungeons. Haldir stared at him in consternation when he spoke of his plans while Rumil and Orophin both mentioned something about his needing to discover a path out of the prison on his own. Their jokes did nothing to soothe his nerves.

As he had reached his decision, he had approached the lady Galadriel in the last moon with his plans. She, naturally, was not surprised with his choice and had stated she had expected him to leave at some point and would not force him to stay against his will and see him trapped here when his spirit wanted to fly.

It was her that had given him his second elvish name, on the eve of their second meeting. She had stated he had a spirit unmatched by those around him and needed not to be caged but rather surrounded by trees and the wilderness to keep him content. And as they communicated on his plans to leave, she approved of his decision and soothed his doubts and fears on abandoning what was the only home he had. She had smiled at him, as if pleased with his decision and he had felt his fear and worry quell and his heart still.

And yet he was leaving. Laitheryn reflected as he gazed over the balcony and watched the dawning of the sun for the last time. As he watched the muted golden colour of the leaves come to life and seemingly dance in joy as the suns' rays hit the dozing trees. To him it was as if the sun knew he was soon to leave and it shone less brightly today. Indeed the trees' dancing in the morning seemed slower and somehow mournful. All knew he was leaving, there was no escaping the fact that he had to continue on and discover who he was; and it saddened them that they were losing a good friend. But they all rejoiced his decision, and wished him luck to find the past he had lost.

There had been a celebration, on the last days of his stay; starting the noon before, in the small dwelling that Haldir stayed in, including his brothers and other close friends. Soon they were called forth and below the trees a feast had been arranged, with song and dance as well as a good amount of wine and other drinks. They stayed awake, past the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon and spoke and danced together for hours. Eventually the party died down, as some excused themselves for the night, not without one last goodbye and returned to their own dwelling. It was then he spotted her, Galadriel was watching him with a soft smile on her features, her dark gold hair spilling over her shoulders, untamed by the soft wind blowing behind her. She wore a pale white dress open at the shoulders, with a shawl cloak hanging over her creamy skin. Both the cloak and the silky dress had a faint pink cast to them. She beckoned him, turning and walking away without waiting for his answer, knowing he would follow. And follow he did.

The golden lady led him past the streamers of golden leaves and past the large trunks of trees, leading him further and further away from the center of her city. He had never followed this path before, and wondered how he had missed it, now that it was so obvious that it led somewhere important. He continued following her, now on a gentle slope down a hill and as the light vanished beneath a shimmering white staircase entwined in the trees above they had reached their destination. Laitheryn looked around to gain a sense of where he was. Off to one side of the glade, his eyes were drawn to a trickling waterfall of the clearest water he had ever seen, near which a golden dipper was. The water stemmed down the short distance and added a sombre note to the dark area they were in. In the whole of Caras Galadhon, this was the only area that Laitheryn had seen that did not shine like the sun; instead it seemed to be distant and cold; more like the moon than the sun.

He followed the line of the waterfall around a complete circle and then moved his gaze to the center of the circle. Spreading up from what appeared to be a natural support of dark earth was a golden mirror, situated loosely in the center of the structure. Laitheryn was sure that no force on Arda could remove this mirror from where it lay. He knew where he was; Galadriel's' glade. A place only rumoured to exist, even to the elves that lived here. Many had searched for this exact spot, all unsuccessful; he also had doubted its existence, and yet it existed.

"Those that are not meant to find this place, shall not enter, Penneth." She addressed his thought.

He was used to this occurring now, but it still caused him some distress when she did read into his private thoughts. "I do not understand, my Lady."

"You know of this place and of the dangers it may contain, if one unguided looks into its depths. That is why it is not discovered by those only curious. Only I may decide who has access to this place."

Laitheryn had, indeed, heard the rumours of this magical glade, its secrets and the powers that all attested to the hidden location. It had been told to him within a week of his arrival. The glade of Galadriel could show you future events, the present or the past; but it was a guess on which it was. Also it could show great events, but terrible ones too. It may force you to view something you wished not to see, and the knowledge would stay with you forever. It was like a double sword, which cut both ways. The knowledge could be useful, if you could interpret it properly, or it could darken you as you watch; a curse hidden in a miracle. Laitheryn wondered how many times the golden lady had viewed something she did not wish to view. Galadriel left his side and drew some water from the pond beneath the waterfall, but did not return to his side.

"And now, Penneth, would you risk a glimpse at the mirror to see what you search so fervently for? I will not force you, if you do not wish it."

"The mirror may witness me to something I do not wish to see."

"Aye." She returned. "But it may show you what you wish."

"It is a gamble then?"

"All things are a series of gambles, Penneth; including life, death and hope."

"You know who I am, do you not?"

They both studied each other intently. Laitheryn could feel her penetrating eyes on him as he asked, as if she were searching him for some sign she alone was aware of. For as long as he could recall residing in Lorien he had always had this impression that she knew all, but that was tempered by the control not to ask the fateful question. Now he could not resist, as this would be the last opportunity he could ask. A moment of silence passed, and she smiled gently once more.

"I do. I have been aware of your identity since you arrived and before as I watched you grow in the protection of the village."

"Why not say something?"

"Your past is clouded with a great pain, which you are aware of but cannot recall the event that caused such agony. You must discover the truth on your own; you must wish to remember, despite the past and your fear of that pain inside."

"I do wish my past, and yet my mind stays blank."

"In mind you wish your past, but in heart you fear the answers. You must find the strength to overcome that binding fear. If I were to tell you what I know to be the truth you may not recover from that. Laitheryn, you will need that strength you will achieve, in the future. Arda had need of you, the Valar have chosen you for a task and have placed their mark on you for those that have the means to see it. It will not be an easy road that you will follow, and you will need to be strong on your own to help in something so inconceivable that I wish it not so. But you will not travel alone, there will be others to walk with you, and the thoughts of your kin will be with you, now and in that distant future. Will you view from my mirror?"

He closed his eyes and looked away, pulling his thoughts together into the simple question she had asked. Would he look into the mirror…could he….did he dare? There was much it could show him, his time in the village, in Lorien. Or it could show him a hint on what the lady plainly knew to be his future, but if it sounded that bleak he was unsure if he wanted to know what she saw. What if it showed him something he did not want to see; a future pain, a loss, a death, an injury; what then? 'What if it shows me my past?'

Could he risk that, all the mysteries and warnings he had received, would he take the chance? Was there hope he would see what he wished? 'Do I wish to see?'

"Even if there is only a small chance of it succeeding, there is still hope. I will." He answered.

"As you wish, Penneth. Come forward, come to the mirror and look." Galadriel spoke as she poured the water into the golden mirror.

A moment later the moons' light reflected back up at him sending peculiar lights over what he knew to be his face. All he saw was the reflection of the glade through the glasslike water, with the shadowing trees above and the soft spears of lost stars above.

He blinked in confusion, as the image stayed a moment longer before it darkened unnaturally, becoming darker and darker. Laitheryn was tempted to look up to see if the moon had hidden herself behind some obscuring cloud and her gentle light lost.

But the scene dimmed past what he would expect until it was near pitch in colour. At first there was nothing, just the deepest colour of black he had seen, and then a shimmer of gold appeared. Laitheryn frowned and tried to peer closer at the flickering gold and as he concentrated further the image became clear; a simple gold ring, unadorned with any gem or markings, spinning in the darkness. As he stared at thering Laitheryn was struck with a thought; it was not a ring spinning in a made up darkness, but the spinning of this particular ring is what caused the darkness and it would be responsible for great evil. It seemed to call, as if it had a consciousness of its own. It had great power, but behind its grandness Laitheryn could just make out its malevolent intentions. He closed his eyes, not wishing to view this threat any longer, and the image almost seem to hiss in anger.

"You have passed your first test." Was all Galadriel would say. "There will be others."

"…That ring…" Laitheryn spoke, giving thanks to the Valar that the image faded when he opened his eyes once more.

"Is not worth dwelling on, Penneth."

There was not room for discussion as the mirror began to darken once more, Laitheryn hoped he would not be treated to another display of the ring; just one sight of it chilled his blood and he felt shaken by the evil such a simple thing could have.

A moment passed and the scene began to clear. He viewed himself aged not further in appearance but by knowledge, standing amongst a backdrop of dark walls, with drizzling rain soaking the ground just outside the cave in which his vision self stood with those in the vision. Laitheryn wore, in this vision a mid toned green tunic and brown leggings, and carried a bow shorter than the one he used now. It was more like the bow that the warriors in Greenwood used to patrol their borders. Laitheryn noted in passing that his hair was braided in the future, so that it would stay off his face and not obscure his eyes, this was not a style he wore it in during any part of his past he could recall. There he was, sometime in the future, in casual Greenwood dress and in possession of a Greenwood bow.

This was yet to occur, Laitheryn decided, as many aspects of the vision were not recall being in this mode of dress or weaponry at the age he was now, nor could he place himself with one of the two people in the vision. One he knew, Mithrandir, and the other was a complete mystery. He was a human that, even in the vision, Laitheryn could feel the quiet air of authority and knowledge emanating off of him. The unknown second born had ink black hair and serious silver - blue eyes and he wore black ranger clothes that looked as if they had seen better days. Indeed all three looked as if they had seen better times.

"I like not this darkness." Laitheryns' vision self stated and he could not help but agree with his future self's' assessment.

The darkness swam once more, and then began to lighten and become more like shadows in trees than the darkness in the cave. The image was growing stronger now, becoming lighter and lighter as if a reflection of the sun was shimmering through the image spawned by the mirror. With no pause the image cleared and Laitheryn recognized the shimmering of the sun through a forest of trees, casting shadows on the ground. Instead of viewing this outside of his future self, this image was in his own sight, as if it was a repressed memory, instead of a possibility.

The memory he was witnessing played forth and a small hand, much smaller than his own now, reached up towards one of the dark trees. Laitheryn knew that this small being, reaching longingly for the tree, was himself when he was young. A voice echoed from the memory – vision he was viewing and the scene switched as if his child self had turned to look at the owner of the calm voice.

"When you are older, Penneth, you may climb that tree." The voice continued, sounding amused. "Be cautious to ensure you try when your Nana isn't looking however, for she will surely blame me for your attempt."

The memory continued, with the vision focusing on the elder elf's face above everything else. This elf, whoever he may be, Laitheryn knew at some point in his past; and he seemed so familiar that he almost could put a name with who he was seeing, but the answer just eluded him. As if a secret kept his conscious from knowing what his unconscious knew all along.

The mysterious elf had long golden hair that was just a shade lighter than his own, fixed back in the same manner that Laitheryn had viewed his own hair tied in the second vision. His dark green eyes, seemed to stare intently into his own blue ones; but Laitheryn knew this mysterious elf was looking at the child he had been, and not who he was now. Their faces were similar, and Laitheryn could detect few differences between his face now and the stranger that stared back at him. He almost raised his hand, wanting very much to touch the face that was so similar to his own. And then it vanished.

"No…" He whispered almost to himself, feeling a flicker of sadness erupt from his soul and leaving his heart heavy in his chest.

He had seen the face of family, someone he was connected to in the past; perhaps an older cousin or brother, uncle or…or dare he hope; his Father. Yet he could not recall who exactly he had seen, or the name of that individual. For that moment in time, his own true name hovered tantalizingly above his consciousness, refusing to bridge the gap and spill onto his lips. It had been on the tip of his tongue, through the last vision, so close to being said. The elder elf had stated his name, when he had called, but it was lost to him.

He knew not, if this elf was still residing in Arda, or had passed to Mandros' halls or to Valinor. All he had was a face…and a sense of great loss. To this elf, his memories attached a great deal of the pain he had hidden from inside. They were connected and yet they were so far apart.

If he returned to Greenwood, like he intended would he even be recognized as the elfling that was lost so long ago? And what of the reports that came from that country, there were none that stated an elfling to be missing, and yet he was with no way of knowing who he truly was. His own family would not know him; he was not the child in the vision.

"And yet you are still he." Galadriel whispered to him, laying a soothing hand on his trembling shoulder. "Despite how you age, you still are he, and you will not lose that."

"I have lost my memories. How can I prove that I am he?"

"I cannot give you that answer, other than you will know when the time arrives. Be at peace, Penneth. The answers will come, do not force them."

"I wish to know, but I fear the pain."

"The fear will pass, when you meet. There was pain in your life, before what you can recall. But do not lose faith that there was happiness too."

"I will not. Who was that elf? I sensed a strong connection with him."

"You are correct. He is a close family member."

"Does he live? Does he reside in Arda still?"

"He does, but barely. Your loss affected him greatly. Do not tarry in your quest to Greenwood, he will have need of you to recover."

"My loss?" He questioned sharply, not missing her intent.

"They believe you reside now in the Halls of Mandros. And that knowledge haunts the one you saw from your past, his grief cuts a little deeper each day."

"He fades!" Laitheryn burst out, shaken at that.

"But slowly, he only holds on by the slimmest of threads. Your return will save him from his own grief. He has need of you, tarry not."

"He….I will not fail…We were happy, in that memory, not all of my past is haunted by the agony I fear."

"You were happy, and will be once more."

"I will not easily lose him, even if I do not remember who he is. If he believes I have passed from this world, than how am I to provemy past?"

"By memories." Galadriel answered simply. "Your memories willbe your guide."

"He seems so familiar and, for an instinct, I would call him Ada Nin."


	3. Chapter 3

Due to a suggestion from Queen000 on the layout of this story, I have decided that there will be several stories on this one alone. Each story will chronicle a different point of view on the same incidencesfrom a different character. The order will be determined as the story progresses; but as a rough it follows:

1) Laitheryn

2) Elrond

3) Elladan or Elrohir

4) Thranduil.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

He and Galadriel had left the cold shimmering glade soon after, and he spent his last night mulling over her words as well as the tantalizing memory the mirror had revealed to him.

The repressed memory of his father's face and the laughter just held back in his voice. The older elf had said his name, his true name, and for just a second Laitheryn had heard it. But it now stayed locked in the vaults of his memory, and would not return no matter how hard he begged his subconscious to release his past. Laitheryn was no closer to the truth now, but for a stronger hope that he would recall when needed. The only thing Laitheryn gathered about that memory was that the elf he saw in the mirror could have easily been the one that Mithrandir and Celeborn were referring to when they compared him in appearance to someone else.

Laitheryn had not slept much that long night as he watched the slow dance of the stars. His mind was too full of questions that, when he tried to rest, more would flood his mind. That was not the only thing he thought of; when he relaxed enough to rest, the ring would return to his internal vision and haunt him with its evil. Galadriel had said not to dwell on that image, but he could not help but ponder its importance. He wondered how many times that same ring haunted the golden lady's thoughts deep at night when all was calm.

And what of that strange human, who had been present in the second vision? Laitheryn already felt drawn to the image of that man. So at some point in the far future he would befriend a man, a ranger if he deemed his apparel properly, and be in his and Mithrandir's company.

The vision also told him that this travel to Greenwood would be his last venture outside an elven realm, as it was obvious he stayed in the great wood as one of their warriors. Maybe he served under the Elvenking as an archer in the legendary army of Greenwood. He must not have a high position in his future, for him to be sent off to some kind of quest outside of the Great Forest's border; but at least he would have a home there too.

Serving in the army would not be such a difficult thing for Laitheryn to conceive. He had already served on some of the patrols that frequented the borders of Caras Galadhon and Lorien, being gone several weeks at a time. He had already proven a name for himself as a good archer; and with his strong connection with nature trees were practically yelling at him when even the slightest thing was amiss. It was on that thought that he began to doze, imaging himself in a patrol within the Great Forest.

He must have slept though, because he became aware once more when the sun flickered through his hut and onto his face, warming the cool air around him. Laitheryn awoke, feeling the warmth in the air around him matching with the warmth he now felt inside.

It was with a heavy heart that he rose to greet the last hours of his stay in Lorien. He walked slowly onto the edges of his hut and looked down to the forest floor beneath, watching the shadows reflecting on the ground as the trees waved in the breeze. It seemed less bright to him, somehow dulled by the knowledge that it may be many centuries until he saw this sight and his friends again. He closed his eyes against the biting sadness that was beginning to fill him, wanting suddenly to call the whole venture off. Here he was standing on the deck to his home, ready to throw it all away just to chase a memory.

But he would in a heart beat, for the chance of meeting the elf who he thought was his father was far greater than that of any nostalgic feelings that gripped his heart. Even if they only met once, even if that elf did not accept him for who he claimed to be; he at least would know and knowing sometimes made it easier to live life than living perpetually in doubt. If he backed out now he would never know his family or his past. He also had the worry of his father fading as well; if he did nothing and his father did fade to the halls of Mandros, he would be guilty of not trying to stop that descent.

And yet the future clearly stated he stayed in Greenwood. But that was just one of the many futures that could occur, maybe not the one that would. The future was always in motion, and the actions of one could change the course for all. Maybe the mirror showed him that future because of his resolve to leave Lorien for Greenwood. Perhaps it was this decision triggered that future. And if he changed his mind…who knew what else could occur?

Laitheryn had not hesitated when leaving the sanctity of his home with the humans in an attempt to locate his past. He had walked away, trying to keep the pain of losing the only home he could remember at bay. He would not have a home there anymore; the ones that cared for him having past to wherever mortals dwell after death. The village may not even be there anymore, having vanished years ago without his knowledge. In Lorien he would always be welcome, but it was not where he belonged. So the situation was the same; his having to leave a place he viewed as home and leave those that he viewed as family to continue on his quest. Laitheryn would not forget those humans in the village that were so kind, and he knew he would not forget the kindness of his kin nor would he be forgotten when he left. 'I will go. It is my past, and I have to discover it…'

Laitheryn soon found himself on his way, just stopping long enough to grab what he had packed for this venture, along with the weapons he spent years mastering, including his bow and arrows along with the back up weapons. Climbing down the tree he had called home for the last two centuries, he laid an affectionate hand on the smooth golden bark and said goodbye to the dozing tree. It responded with well wishes. It was just after that, walking through the just waking city listening to the song of the trees and elves when he met Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil. The three brothers were standing there, waiting for him and it was without words that the three fell to his side and continued his quiet walk on.

The three were born in Lorien, and loved its gold tones. Their hearts longed for Caras Galadhon when they were away. And yet his heart longed for another forest, one where dark leaves fell and glistened green in the sun. He was home but his heart longed for another. It was without words that the four walked quietly onwards together, through the golden city. There were no words that needed speaking; their silence did justice to their emotions.

Laitheryn turned, just on the outskirts of the city to the forest, biding goodbye and wanting one last look. He paused, just about to turn back to his companions. There standing just barely within his elven sight, on their own balcony was the Lord and Lady of Lorien. Laitheryn inclined his head, in a measure of respect and they responded equally to him. He smiled at the pair before focusing on his three friends; their dark blue eyes on this face, wondering why he had paused so suddenly in his walk and why he had smiled to nothing. Laitheryn tried to explain why, but they had not seen what he had and it was several minutes of gentle teasing before the moment passed once more and the four fell into companionable silence.

There was no need to hurry here; he would make up for the slow pace of today in the days ahead, wasting no time by running over the intervening distance between Lorien and Greenwood. He would circle the forest to the south and then head straight North, upwards until he crossed paths with the River Celduin and follow that into the Great Forest. It was then that Laitheryn hoped that his presence would be noted by the elves that guarded the realm, and be escorted to the king, instead of him hopelessly searching for the Elvenking's halls. Laitheryn knew he had a great responsibility to the elf that could be his father, but he also did not want to be leave of his friends any sooner than he had to.

Laitheryn walked slowly, noting that as he did the trees still thinned too quickly for his tastes and the sounds of the Great River Anduin could just be heard over the quiet. The group stopped on the outskirts of the golden forest for the night, even though it was still several hours before the sun would set. In the morning three would be heading back to Lorien and Laitheryn would continue onwards on whatever path his future took him. It was gazing into the small fire that Haldir had constructed that Rumil chose to broach the subject that all had on their minds.

"Are you sure about this venture Laitheryn?"

"I am. I need to find who I am before I can be whole. There's a part of me missing, and I need to discover that part."

"We do understand that Laitheryn." Rumil assured.

"We just wish you to be careful. Arda seems to darken a little more each day." Orophin spoke up, feeding the fire a small branch he had found on the ground. "We wish not to hear you have been injured…or worse…"

"I will be careful."

"You will not have us to assist you out of trouble." Rumil started once more.

"You're assistance is what usually landed us in trouble, Mellon nin." Laitheryn answered, laughing as he did.

"Aye, he has a point there, Rumil." Orophin agreed with that.

"He most certainly does not!" the offended elf stated. "Our assistance is what kept him from becoming bored!"

"If you mean assistance as pranks, then Laitheryn and I certainly had no time for boredom; we were too busy hiding, especially if Elladan and Elrohir were a part of the scheme as well." Haldir answered for the pair. "I am never venturing near those two again, if I can possibly help it."

"Nor I." Laitheryn stated. "Especially if Orophin and Rumil are in vicinity too."

Haldir nodded, agreeing to that statement.

"What feel you for your past?" Haldir asked, bringing the subject round again. "You have never spoken of it."

"There is not much to speak of." Laitheryn answered. "My memory has been locked away by some event that caused me much turmoil, and I cannot recall it, save for flickers in dreams and impressions, and even then they are few and far between. Yet I wish to know who I am, and know of my family. I wish my home."

"Why Greenwood? You easily could have descended from Imladris." Orophin questioned.

"Not exactly." Haldir started in. "There are few golden haired elves in Imladris. He does rather look more like a woodland elf. His best bet is Greenwood."

"We have all heard of how receptive the Greenwood elves, particularly their King, are to unannounced visitors. Laitheryn, you must have more to go on than just what is the best bet." Rumil appealed. "For I do not doubt the rumours…"

"Aye, I do. Another impression of being very young and watching the sun shining through a thick forest. If I recall properly, Imladris has no forest of great depth near it. But if I do not find what I am looking for in Greenwood I will head on to Imladris and search there."

"From your tone I would say that you assume that you will find the answers in the Great Forest." Haldir stated more than questioned.

"Yes." Laitheryn sighed.

He had not wanted to mention his visit with the golden lady to the glade in which he saw his future and a flicker of his past. For some reason that one memory he had was special; a secret. It was that one memory of his Father's face that would give him strength enough to travel on, despite the reception he was sure he would receive in Greenwood. The memory he had received late last night in the hidden grove was his, the only thing he had that tied him to his past and Laitheryn was not sure if he wanted it shared right away. But outright lying to his friends? 'They deserve more from me then to lie when stated lie is more convenient than truth.'

He had his answer and he would not lie to dear friends.

Taking a deep breath he started into the discoveries he had made last night; only mentioning the two visions that pertained to this topic and nothing of the Lady's words to him of his future. He would keep secret the haunting ring that spun in the darkness of the vision as well as in his mental eye when he became most distracted. At the moment Laitheryn had not known what the effects would be in viewing that evil; and his mind became more unsettled by just the thought. 'It had much maliciousness…'

"Laitheryn?" Rumil was questioning.

He started out of his thoughts and looked in askance towards the one that voiced his name.

"Something disturbs you?" Rumil continued.

"Just thoughts, Mellon – Nin. Do not be concerned."

"Dark thoughts should be expressed, lest they darken you." Orophin quoted. "Please Mellon. Will you not share what burdens you?"

"I am burdened by more than what I dare admit." Laitheryn sighed softly. "Lady Galadriel's words perhaps the most. She bade me, tarry not; lest the elf that is my Adar fade in my absence."

"Have faith Laitheryn. Have hope that he will wait. I am confident that you will succeed. For you have yet to fail at any task you have set your mind to." Haldir started.

"And I will not fail now." Laitheryn broke in.

"That is the Laitheryn I know as Gwador – Nin. You will be in our thoughts and our songs, we pray for your success."

"Hannon le."

"Tell me once more of your Ada."

"He was tall. But whether that was a child's perspective, I do not know. He was tall and slender, and seemed to possess the bearings of a great Lord."

"Alas!" Orophin stated. "That does describe many elves from our kin nation."

"…In face, his was similar to mine adorned, with the colour of living leaves as eyes and with gold hair in similar colour to mine." Laitheryn continued decidedly ignoring the interruption. "That is all. There was nothing around him I could use to deduce his identity. He wore no trace of rank, if he did have one."

Haldir nodded, gazing far away as if trying to match the basic description to someone he knew of. "At least we now know why there was no word of a lost Elfling to this point." The eldest of their group spoke finally. "They would have no reason to suspect your survival."

"Aye, tis true." Laitheryn agreed. "And I have no way of proving that I have been lost at some point from their realm."

"Your memories will guide you." Haldir counselled.

"…That was the same advice given to me by the Lady." Laitheryn stated, staring at his friend. "You sounded remarkably alike to her in that moment."

"I?"

"Yes."

"What Haldir speaks is true." Orophin dropped back into the conversation. "You will remember times and places that no one else would have been privy too. That states strongly for your defence."

"But I do not remember anything."

"You will in time. I have faith that your memories will return when you are around familiar places and elves. Will you be able to recognize your Adar by sight alone?" Orophin continued.

"Yes. I hope so. And sometimes, hope is all we have."

The conversation seemed to end there, as all four drifted eventually into silence, watching the flickering flames eat slowly at the dead wood that was placed to encourage its growth. It had grown dark at some point during their conversation, and he could clearly see the stars in the evening sky. There was no need for words; the silence spoke for them.

Behind them, in the city of Lorien, the elves sang into the night. Just drifting loud enough to be heard was the voice of Galadriel, singing calmly to the ones she protected by her own powers, against the hidden agents of darkness that slipped with more certainty across the plains in the cover of darkness. No one touched with the hand of Sauron, or with evil intent, was allowed near this realm, and all the elves prospered under the seeming peace that Caras Galadhon lived under. And yet evil existed, and something was coming that would cause great pain and suffering in all that encountered that fatal ring. Laitheryn did not know when this event would occur, only that he would somehow play a part in it. And because, he decided watching the flames dance in harmony with the song around them, he could do nothing to stop the will of the Valar he would merely watch with alertness for this event to occur. He would not let the future rule his existence.

The Golden Lady's song continued, becoming more soothing as moments passed and without even knowing it he drifted away with her voice following him into the untouched realms of sleep. The night drifted on without his awareness, and he awoke in the early morning with the sun just beginning to rise, in his eternal race to catch his beloved's light.

He laid there for a moment, enjoying the protective peace around him, the glinting golds of the Mallorn trees and the voices of the elves and of nature that lived in harmony with one another.

Laitheryn then slowly helped the three break camp, each knowing what the other was doing and where their individual tasks would lead. It was slow as none wanted to bereft of the others company; but soon it was done. And Laitheryn stood facing the three brothers on opposite side of the small clearing they had set up camp in. To their backs stood the ancient city of Caras Galadhon and the golden trees; to his, the unknown wilds of the land. Laitheryn did not wish to bid his friends farewell, but knew in order to discover his past that was what had to occur.

"I cannot think of words…" he started but trailed off. "You will all be in my thoughts and prayers. Even if we are separate, our hearts bind us together."

"I would say much the same as you, Laitheryn." Haldir started. "We all have gone through much together, and there will always be a place here for you."

"But you must be off to find your home." Rumil started. "My heart longs for Lorien, even when I am not far from home. Your heart belongs, already, to green leaves and deep forests. I wish you luck, Gwador – Nin."

"Aye." Laitheryn answered.

"Long have you been our friend." Orophin began. "And yet it feels as if no time has passed since that day when you were introduced to us. The years have slipped away without note of passing."

"Mellon – Nin. The years have slipped past, but not away or in vain. We have the memories of our time together, and I value those moments above all. Hannon le." Laitheryn spoke once more.

He stepped forward, as the three came to him. Holding out his arm, expecting it to be gripped in the form of a traditional warrior farewell, Laitheryn instead found himself involved in a deep hug by the three brothers, and he realized he was hugging back. A moment later they all pulled back.

"We cannot keep you…" Haldir started.

"As much as we may wish to." Orophin broke in.

"We will not keep you, caged here, when your heart longs for your home, Laitheryn." Haldir continued, sending a reproving look down to his younger brother. "We all wish you well."

And with that, no more words would come from his lips, so he silently nodded his thanks and turned to leave. Laitheryn walked away, steeling his heart so he would not look back and see the three watching him, steeling his emotions so he would not give in to the grief that bound him and return with the three to their home. It was time he move on and, for his Adar's sake, he hoped he had not waited too long.

When he could bare it no longer, he broke into a run, heading towards the gentle river that Lorien was situated next to. He could feel the three brothers' eyes on him the whole time and was almost grateful when the covering trees broke his knowledge of their gaze. There was no time for looking back.

* * *

Finally. This chapter took awhile to write; and I apologize for the delay. Next chapter should be up soon.

Please review and tell me what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

The scenery did not change. Not over the distance Laitheryn had run following the sun as he continued his slow path across the pale blue sky. He had left the sanctuary of Lorien far behind him and he was once more on his own, and Laitheryn could not help but feel the solitude of his journey growing as he continued eastwards and away from the Golden Forest. The only relief to the pressing quiet was the soft songs of nature that surrounded him. The scenery had not changed much, slowly evening out and becoming gently sloping hills, covered with thick green grasses and dotted with the occasional sparse trees.

It had not changed much from his last venture outside an elven realm either, when he traveled in the company of that human ranger around the lengths of Arda. It was as if the land was frozen in time, barely changing from one year to the next or from one life time to the next.

There were not many creatures that would venture this way; that would intentionally disturb the lay of the land with their travels. The land had not changed, but something within it had. The colours of nature seemed slightly less bright, less pristine, as if tainted slightly by a darkness. And it seemed to be growing too, like a fungus, slowly corrupting the health of the land around it. The darkness had grown and yet light remained only subdued; the light would never fade as long as there was hope.

Laitheryn had run from Lorien, letting the trees blend him in and cut of his knowledge of his friends' gaze on his turned back. Moving swiftly he had reached the gently flowing river that cut through Lorien and separated it from its kin nation, Greenwood. The golden trees had dimmed long ago, losing the brilliant sheen that Lorien was known for and now they seemed more natural to him, not golden but green. He had stopped at its banks of the gentle river, to drink his full.

He had not been this far out of Lorien since the time he had crossed into its borders, seeking answers to his questions on his past. He had not found the answers in that realm, his stay within the sanctuary of the Golden Forest only rose more. The River Anduin was the natural border to Lorien and after that he would bereft of a home once more. But he would not change his mind, now sheer stubbornness keeping his resolve alive, so it would not wane and he weaken in his intent.

The Golden Lady clearly thought he had something to gain by returning to Greenwood, and Laitheryn would trust in her judgement. She would not lie, nor would she send him on a fools' errand, only to be disappointed and deeply hurt by not finding what he sought. He would place his trust in her and in himself.

Laitheryn did not look back after that, and he jumped to the tree to his left, landing in a lower branch, calling for their aid to find an easy crossing across the gently flowing river. He called of the trees to find a way he could leave this realm without getting wet in the process. All he needed was a branch spread over the river, something to make the long jump easier.

Upstream from his vantage point, the elf came across what he searched for, and a tree waved its discovery to him; its voice echoing to him where he sat, pleased for helping one of the first born. Following the trees' voice, Laitheryn thanked the content tree for its efforts and jumped to the promised hanging branch. It did not escape the young elf's notice that the branch on the opposite side of the river seemed to stretch its limbs further out to ensure his safe landing.

Lord Celeborn had stated his connection with nature was uncommonly strong, a trait not seemingly being lost by the elves that resided in the darkening lands. Nature was changing, from the benevolent voice that resided in all elves to something much darker. Something was corrupting nature, and only the few elves with the strongest gifts in tree empathy could dimly hear the cries as another tree fell to that darkness. Laitheryn had wondered if his connection to nature did not spawn from a random event or random chance but rather a natural gift graced to him at birth. If he had been born a woodelf, as he thought, that would explain why his connection to the surrounding lands was stronger than all of the other elves he had encountered thus far.

Woodelves were considered odd, outsiders, rural even. They did not have the sophistication that the high elves had achieved, nor did they seem to wish that knowledge. But those elves that would state their ancestry from Valinor and were proud of the accomplishments that their sect had made in the recent and far past; had lost something far more valuable than what they gained for their troubles. They might have knowledge, gems and jewels. But they lost the speech of nature, and would not regain it. Many could not hear what he did or with the clarity he achieved. Many did not hear the voices of the trees, and only relied on their instincts to be their only guide, and would not hear the trees whispering their own warnings. Many did not hear, but Laitheryn wondered why he did.

Off the shore of the Anduin the trees thinned further and soon there were none. Laitheryn stood at the edge of the forest for a moment, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. Without the cover of the forest he would be easily marked by those traveling Arda. He would have no problem with the human rangers, or with the uncorrupted animals. But it was the creatures touched with darkness that worried him, the ones that would hunt elves for their own satisfaction, orcs. They usually travelled in the cover of darkness, using the natural shadows to hide their own. Laitheryn would be in danger as long as he remained away from his own kind and far off from any elven realm. As long as he traveled during the bright hours of the day, and stayed out of sight at night he should be alright for the duration of the trip.

Lady Galadriel had offered him a Lorien horse for his use, but as only a few lived in that realm he had declined her offer. The Lorien patrol would have need of them, and losing even one was not tolerable and would weaken them. He declined; knowing that a horse would cut his travel time to a quarter, but said horse would make him more noticeable than if he traveled alone.

He had moved past the sparse trees of Lorien and had kept a strong pace through the first section of his journey. He would not have much time to complete this trek and the sooner it was over the safer he would be. He ran on, watching as the green lands gave way to brown grass, always checking his surroundings with a cautious eye, watching for anything amiss. Laitheryn listened as he ran, calling out in all directions to the sparse and spotted trees that sometimes cropped up ahead of him, using them as a guide to sense for any danger.

And without him really realizing how much time had passed from the beginning of his flight at the sanctuary of Lorien to where he stood now. The sun was low in the sky, hanging just above the horizon. Already the sun began to set, serenading him in deep gold, oranges and darkening purples of the upcoming night. He slowed at the edge of one of the thickets of trees, sheltered partially all around by the calming trees. He could continue on, to the next thicket and risk a run in with the creatures that began to infiltrate the peace with their deceptive cloaks of evil. He could continue on, but he would risk his life. The next thicket was far beyond what he could reach before the sun left his vigil over the lands and set beyond what he could even see. The trees told him he would not reach the next outcropping without some threat.

Unless he made for the trees at the southern end of Greenwood, with his elven eyes he could plainly see the edge of the forest. He would have time and some to spare if he entered the pitch forest realm. But there were dangers with that decision too, wolves hunted there in large numbers, Orcs would find it easy to hide there and ambush an unwary traveller and the spiders that were beginning to become a nuisance to the already distressed realm.

Laitheryn had been told of the newborn dangers that were just beginning to become apparent in the forest realm. Listening to the tale of the tale of the lone Greenwood elf, describe the creatures in exquisite detail. He had shivered then, in the warm sun of the golden glade, filled with some aversion to the dread spiders. Naturally he could not explain to anyone, even himself why he felt what he had at that moment.

The sun was deeper now, for the time he had spent lost in his own thoughts. It almost chose for Laitheryn what his course of action would be deciding he would stay in the protective glade of the few trees. He would listen to the pleas of the sparse trees to stay with them for the evening, and rest among their eaves for the remainder of the night. To move on would be foolish, even more foolish as night was already setting in and the moon was only a quarter full. He had all the protection he needed in this quiet glade, and when the sun was new in the morning sky he would move on once more. Laitheryn felt a flicker of relief now that the pressure of that decision had been cast off.

There was no need for a fire; Laitheryn did not need its warmth to survive the slightly chilled night. He was content with the clothes he wore, under the dark grey Lorien cloak. A fire's light in the darkness, when there was no other, would attract unwanted attention to his direction. He did not need to cook, having been giving a generous amount of Lembas for this journey. A small bite and a sip of water was all he needed to be content. A fire, while comforting, would be ill advised for the conditions he found himself in.

It would be better to disappear into the trees and stay off the ground.

Picking one at random, Laitheryn climbed high into the obscuring canopy and rested down against the bark, knowing that the pleased tree would blend him in until he was not visible from the ground. Indeed one could pass directly under the tree he was in and not know that someone was watching you. Not only he would be watching either, the observant tree would stretch its awareness out and be on guard for threats. Reaching inside for the link he had, Laitheryn gently touched his mind with the awareness emanating from the tree he was in and the ones around it. Laitheryn could sense their delight at his presence and wondered why it seemed that all trees delighted in his company so fully.

'_Mellon Nin.'_ He whispered gently, directing his thoughts to all the trees around him. _'I am in need of your protection, in the coming cycle of the moon and stars.'_

'_Penneth, we rejoice that you would honour us with your presence. It has been so long since we have spoken to one of your kind and we have missed that. What need you from us? We are your humble servants.'_

'_Nay.' _Laitheryn broke in. '_We are all equal in the eyes of the Valar. I do not wish to have you place yourselves lower than I, when there is no difference in our standing. I am in need of friends, not servants.'_

'_Your words are just and fair, Penneth. We will watch for the evil you fear, and will alert you if something draws near. Be at peace and rest.'_

'_Hannon le…'_ Laitheryn whispered in his mind.

Lying with his back to the responsive tree, Laitheryn listened to its quiet song as the sun finally left the horizon and the moon began her climb in the black sky. Stars flickered in the dim, bringing relief to the never ending black. The stars stood bravely against the darkness; giving some life and hope, that the darkness of night would end and the sun would reign the sky once more. The brightest of all, hung most north in the sky, near the mostly hidden moon.

Laitheryn lay there, for hours it seemed it seemed to him, just watching the sky and delighting in the seemingly endless progression of the night. Soon Laitheryn noted a shift in the song the trees whispered to him; lulling him further away from his thoughts. Soothed by the gentle radiance in the sky as well as the soothing song that drifted from the trees Laitheryn slept, drifting away from awareness so slowly that he could not recall the precise moment it had occurred.

He awoke once more to the gentle dawn, the sun which had been hidden in the night breaking through the pitch cloak of the night, and resuming his never ending cycle with the moon. Each would follow the others' course in the sky, until they met once more in a rare occurrence when the Valar allowed the lovers that honour. He had dreamed, and still held onto the remnants of the dream like a much valued treasure.

Laitheryn could not recall the beginnings of the dream or what had spawned it from his mind. Only that he was in an unknown house, a large room had stretched behind his dream image. Laitheryn could not see what he plainly knew to be true and did not recall his dream self turning to investigate his surroundings. Laitheryn drew from some unknown memory that it was a large room behind him with deep chairs set in a circle around a low table. Some sort of gathering room, painted an earthy toned red, and shadowed by flickers of the sun just breaking through the trees near the window and casting a myriad of their own patterns on the floor.

Dark timbers stretched like trees over his head to the roof of the building above, giving the impression that the room had been designed to mimic the outside, while still offering the protection of being indoors. Laitheryn drew further from some forgotten memory and recalled that the dark timbers of the room had carvings of leaves, designed onto the surface of the wood and barely visible unless you stood close. The twisting leaves ran from the lowest section of the timber up to the ceiling, where the timbers holding the roof stretched across and more resembled branches of trees than wood carved by immortal hand.

Books sat behind one of the couches, at a far wall, piled in some order onto an overwhelmed bookshelf. Laitheryn recalled the warm feeling that seemed to echo from the room in his memory – dream and knew he had spent many content hours in this room.

In the dream a voice echoed to him, a females' voice; one so beautiful that it nearly broke his heart just hearing it. She had called out to him, speaking to him with the name he still could not recall, her tone affectionate. She had called to him to come and watch with her the fire burning in the corner. She called him to come and sit with her and enjoy the contact.

He had turned in his dream, and caught sight of the elf that was his Nana. Her golden hair lay down her back in ringlets, hanging half out of intricate braids to brush her face. Her deep blue eyes, ones that he knew matched his, had been like a river on a foggy day, mid blue orbs that spoke of love and of happiness.

She wore a hazel green dress open at the shoulders, with a dark green shawl hanging off her back and ending in a cascade of green at her waist. Both the dress and the shawl had flickers of gold thread in them and it took Laitheryn a moment to recall that the golden threads became a pattern of leaves just visible as you approached her.

"Nana." A child's' voice had echoed in the dream, speaking at the same moment that Laitheryn had recalled who this beautiful, half familiar elf was.

She had said his true name once more, calling him to her side and lifting the child he had once been onto her lap when he responded to her call. There the dream ended, leaving him wishing he could have seen more.

Laitheryn had dreamed of his mother, and yet he could not help but wonder why he felt such sadness at the dream, and why he now felt like crying, at just the sight of her, the memory of her. Why the memory of his mother would hurt the way it had, he did not know. 'I am not the only one hurt by this pain I do not recall…Adar nin would have been too. I am distressed at the pain I feel inside, but I wish my past.'

Laitheryn had dreamed of his mother and of his home, his true home. And despite the dream being empty of description he had managed to recall enough to fill in the gaps of the dream - memory he had in the past night. This could only mean one thing, that despite the agony of the past his memories were returning slowly. It was like a much needed rain for a dry land; first only a few drops would fall, giving the residents small hope that the drought would end. And then a cascade of rain would come. He would remember small things first, flickers and impressions, giving him hope for the rest. And when he was ready his entire memory would cascade from the locked recesses of his mind and into his consciousness.

Laitheryn found himself wondering as he prepared to leave the protective glade of trees, what had occurred to his mother. He had not thought to ask after her in the glade with Galadriel, being more concerned with the image of his father. But now he wondered why he had not seen her in the mirror. Why the mirror had chosen to only show him his fathers' face? Why was she absent?

It was only a few moments later that Laitheryn continued on, not wishing to waste any more time of the dawning day on thoughts alone. He had to continue on his journey, no matter how painful it was to recall. He bid the trees a farewell and thanked them for their diligence in his protection.

Leaving again, he turned in east and started to trek across the never ending mid brown landscape, watching as the tall grasses slipped like a rivers water around him as he ran on, away from the protection offered by the lonely glade of trees that had become his temporary guards. He could still vaguely hear the gentle musings of the river he left behind and knew that soon he would lose that as he came closer to the most southern edge of Greenwood forest.

As he ran, covering more distance as the scenery almost blurred around him, Laitheryn continued to ponder the dream and its significance, his Nana's face forever recorded to his conscious mind.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun had risen and set two more times on his journey towards the forest which bore the name, Greenwood. He did not slow his pace, during those days; only stopping when the sun sank to low for him to travel in relative safety.

Laitheryn had tried to dream of his past, forcing his mind back as far as it would go and hoping that something would spark a memory. He wished to recall more of the beautiful elf that was his Nana or the proud but kind elf that was his Adar. Every morning when he awoke with nothing new of his past, he would feel like weeping; but would not. Laitheryn would not give in to this grief without reason. If he wept, it would feel final; like a defeat. Laitheryn would continue on his way and hang his chances on hope.

So he ran on, through the wilds of Arda. He had left behind the comforting sounds of the river Anduin; which lay so far behind him that, not even with his elven sight, could he even catch a glimpse of the gently flowing river. He had lost sight of the forest he knew was Lorien before that too, and with the final sight of the small forest; he knew he dearly missed his home. And yet Laitheryn did not know which home he longed for, the village of gentle humans, Lorien, the home he could not remember; all or all three.

He had moved on, keeping just in sight of the dark trees that made up the deep forest of Greenwood. It was not wise for anyone to venture into the depths of the Great Forest, especially alone. Those that thought they could risk entry, did so at their own peril. If luck or chance was with you, you would encounter one of the many patrols that the Elvenking sent out to watch over the forest. If luck turned against you, the evils that haunted the once peaceful realm would find you and you would not escape with your life. Laitheryn was bidden to seek Greenwood with great haste, but warned not to purposely endanger his own life during that time when he would find himself outside an elven realm and alone in his flight.

Laitheryn deduced by the lay of the land that he had finally rounded the lowest section of the great forest, and was following the edges of the trees towards the north once more. This shift in direction marked his journey half way done. What was left was to continue following the lines of the trees until he encountered the surging waters of the Celduin. The rapid waterway would then split into two separate paths and he would then follow the river into the dark forest and hopefully be spotted by the elven patrols. But that was at least five days ahead of his present location.

Laitheryn was so lost in his thoughts of future paths and events that he missed the first calls of the trees; missed their whispered warnings. He did not hear their counsel and did not heed their quiet directions to hide, lest danger find him. It was only when the whispers became shouts of dismay and rage; that he finally noted their presence and slowed to a stop, to listen to the calls.

'_Danger! Flee!'_ One yelled, its voice echoing louder than Laitheryn had ever heard before.

'_Flee, Son of Nature! Evil approaches!'_

'_What?'_ He questioned.

'_Flee, lest you be discovered!'_

'_What danger do you speak of?'_

'…_The servants of Mordor approach. Flee, now. Orcs approach.'_

'_Near now…Flee Penneth.'_

'_They cannot travel in direct sun; it will burn their skin and their eyes!'_ He protested, without thought.

From what Laitheryn had previously learned of the degraded species, they would avoid exposure to the sun, lest it burn their dark skin and shallow eyes. Thus those hours where the sun dominated the sky, had been safe for travellers. But now, it seemed that the darkness had strengthened its hold on Arda so far that even the Orcs did not fear the sun and his powers. Somehow, the rules that bound the Orcs' to the darkness of night had changed suddenly.

The voices nature became blended and confused, one cutting off the other in their panic. Laitheryn could no longer determine which spoke first and which would cut off the original call with their concerns. His head was spinning with the confusion of the wilds that surrounded him, their disgust that evil was so near and the fear that some ill would befall him. As his confusion grew as did the voices of nature.

They were approaching, just nearing the ledge that obscured Laitheryns' view. They could not see him and he could not visualize them either, but in moments they would all come within view of one another. The results of this meeting would be his death, for the trees yelled of a large group of them traveling together…and hostages…

He was running without thought, and could not determine when he had actually turned back and left the area he had stopped in. He could not determine when the crying request of nature that he flee turn from their wish, to his feet obeying their commands. But he was running, feeling the ground shake at the heavy footsteps that were just beginning to mount the top the obscuring hill, when they reached the pinnacle they would be able to look down into the mock valley he had been in. Unless he got out of sight in seconds, he would fail in his quest to regain his past, fail because he would be entertainment for the pursuing enemy. Entertainment for them was pain and torture for those that fell within their sinister gazes.

He fled, heading for the only shelter he had at that moment; twisting his original path off from the trees he had left as the sun rose in the sky that morning, and heading left of his current location. Turning from the path he had chosen to follow the edge of the Great Forest; Laitheryn now found himself running desperately towards the deep forest and the promise of the cover the trees would give. There was no other place he could hide, no natural outcroppings he could disappear into or around, no trees he could reach in time; save those that grew from the forest realm.

Laitheryn could feel the panic threatening to overwhelm his mind, as he continued towards the sheltering trees, which stood so close but still so far away. The trees of the forest reached towards him with their protective limbs, sensing his fear and the reason behind his panic. They called to him, bidding him to come to them and they would hide him as best they could. Laitheryn could barely hear their cries over the thudding of his heart, perfectly matching the pace of the Orcish feet pounding on the ground so close to him.

Just as he became aware that they had crossed the only thing keeping them from sighting him, he reached the first outcroppings of Greenwood trees and scrambled up its trunk and as high into the obscuring canopy. His heart raced, still throbbing painfully in his chest. Not in response to his desperate run, but rather the fear that coursed through him and the surrounding nature.

The orcs had paused at the top of the hill seemingly observing their environment and the empty ground that lay ahead of them. Their gazes did not travel in his direction at that moment. Laitheryn took the moment he had to observe them as well as try to control his racing heart.

They were ugly, a race destroyed long ago by the forces of darkness. This was the Dark Ones' answer to the light of the elves, a corruption of what Iluvator and the Valar made the first race to be. Where the elves were fair and just; the orcs were dark and twisted, sparing none their cruel touch.

Their skin was no longer fair it no longer glowed, faintly blessed with the colour of nature; but dark like spilt blood on earth. As if all the blood they were forced to spill had physically darkened their skin, as well as darkening their souls.

The Orcs' limbs were not slender and strong, but brutish with deep muscles forced on them due to never ending labour and torture. They became strong by the search for more blood to spill, and more lives to end, either by death or by changing their targets into what they had become.

And their faces were made of nightmares. From what Laitheryn could see their eyes no longer showed the wisdom and light that all elves were graced with, but rather cruelty and malice shone from their depths. They had shallow eyes, sunken deep into their sockets and staring out with malevolence. Their noses were sunken too, if not completely gone. And their mouths had become just as dark as the rest of their bodies, as if they were formed without lips. Several smirked at something Laitheryn could not see, showing their broken and decayed yellow teeth.

They all wore leather, darkened by the years of use doing the dark will of their master; covering the majority of their bodies. Their feet and hands were also covered by thick dark brown leather; one darkened by the earth on which they ran and the other by the endless blood that they had spilt.

In the midst of the large group there were few orcs that wore metal armour in place of leather, each spaced evenly between sections of the orc army. Laitheryn assumed that these few were the leaders of individual sections, for they seemed to be the largest and burliest of all the gathered army. It was as if the leadership was determined on who was the strongest of the groups gathered, not on skill. He vaguely wondered how many bodies the dented old metal armour had been worn by before it came to them.

Each orc carried a weapon, and had others strapped to their backs or waists. It seemed that of the seven groups that had been found for whatever purpose they had been set to, each group carried a different weapon to another. One group carried thick broad sided swords, another curved and spiked long axes and a third carried a cleaver like blade, straight on one end and serrated on the other but both ends equally dangerous. No group carried the same weapon as another, and Laitheryn could not accurately count the number of raised armaments in the air.

There were many, at least seven score stood there, and their might be more he could not see, hidden still by the obscuring hillside. Too many to be a coincidence, they had been gathered for a purpose that escaped him at this moment.

Too many to survive, if he had challenged them; they would have easily defeated him. Laitheryn said a soft prayer to the Valar that they had, somehow, missed his presence and he had escaped detection. The voices warnings' had come late due to his inattention, but not late enough that he became another victim to the Servants of Mordor.

Laitheryn frowned at that moment, listening to the whispers coming from the tree he was residing in and he tried to connect with its dialogue. Yet he could not reach to the subconscious of the tree; it did not respond to his calls as if it were listening to someone else instead. For a moment Laitheryn heard the other in the trees mind. He could hear the voice whispering to the tree, requesting something of it, but could not hear the words that were said. He pulled back just as quickly as the contact had occurred, confused by the strange third presence he had sensed.

In response to the unknown voice, the tree shifted its large branches closer, as if trying to obscure the view between him and the large Orc army. As if the owner of the voice had called on the tree to protect him. But that would mean that there was another elf near him, one he had not detected. 'But where? In the forest?'

'_Cover your head…' _The unknown voice whispered into his mind.

The command did not go unnoticed and the tone the unknown elf used was one that brook no defiance. It was as if this elf was used to being obeyed. Laitheryn was not one to argue an order, especially if it was common sense that he obeyed. Despite not knowing the owner of the voice he felt bidden to respond to what it requested.

With his brilliant hair tone he may just be spotted by accident within the tree. It would not be hard to miss brilliant gold on a backdrop of deep brown wood and green leaves. Laitheryn had been lucky that they were far enough away that his inattention to detail would not be observed. Moving carefully he covered his hair and curled up under his soft grey Lorien cloak, hopeful that the magic woven into it would help hide him into the bark of the tree. He hoped that his own form of elven magic would allow for his presence to be missed by the army of orcs. He peered out under the edge of the cloak.

The Orcs were beginning to move again as if their break had ended. It was then that Laitheryn could see that they were guarding something as if their lives depended on it. He frowned and peered closer at the innermost section of the Orc party, whispering prayers to the Valar that the Orcs new victims were not what he immediately assumed them to be, elves caught from the Great Forest.

Wincing as the cloak fluttered in the breeze, Laitheryn caught the edge of it and pinched it down, still watching the center of the group. They moved once more and Laitheryn could just pick up flickers of dark green cloaks and pale skin underneath. He concentrated above the whisperings of the near by trees enough to count their number.

All were being carried over the shoulders of their capturers, and the majority did not seem to realize where they were or what was occurring, being driven by their injuries into the safety of unconsciousness. The Greenwood elves had numerous wounds that Laitheryn could just see from his perspective; as if they had barely escaped a battle with their lives. There was not one among them that was uninjured. Some bore marks of blades on their skin, others deep bruises and dried cuts. Laitheryn wondered how long ago they had been attacked by the orc army. He was now sure that the one elf that had given him the suggestion and had asked the tree to protect him was among the numbers captured by the marching army.

A small section of the Orcs broke from the side they were guarding, revealing more of the elves they had captured; turning towards his direction as they did. Laitheryn now had a better view of the deep cuts and bruises which marred the skin of the elf patrol that had been overtaken, with blood drying on the fabric covering the wounds.

'_Keep still.' _The voice whispered again.

From the larger group that had continued on their path despite missing several of their comrades, one of the Orcs rounded on the other. Laitheryn could hear their voices arguing from where he lay.

"It is awake! I tell you it awakens!" The first insisted in a deeply accented voice.

Laitheryn could almost feel the flash of annoyance from the elder elf for being referred to in such a derogatory manner. He now was concerned for the strange elf's safety, what would the orcs do if they discovered one of their captives awake?

'_Do not move.'_

He resisted the urge to mention to the unknown elf that he should be more concerned with his own safety instead, especially as the orcs that were nearest to him were aware that he was responsive. Laitheryns gaze flickered back to the small group approaching his tree but a sudden movement drew his eye back to the two arguing over their elf captive. Without waiting for a response the second orc had set the captive down and rapped him smartly on the side of the head with one thick hand before giving the prone body a solid kick in the ribs. The reassurance of the awareness near him faded as the elf retreated back into unconsciousness, and he was alone once more.

Laitheryn tried to bite down the anger that surged through him, that one of his own kin would be so viciously treated, when he was so close that he could have stopped the attack if he had chosen too. Laitheryn could have easily fitted an arrow and released it on the Orc before it knew what had occurred. He could have easily killed that one and a few more before they realized they were under attack and where the arrow haled from. But he had not helped when he could have, and now it was too late for him to assist the captives. The small group that had broken off had reached his tree in his distraction. Laitheryn bit down a curse and went as still as he could.

"I said I saw something. In the trees, it was!" One yelled. "I saw something move!"

"It was nothing. You saw nothing. Only tricks by trees and tired eyes, you did." A second said.

"I saw it move! I know what I saw! And I smells Elf!"

To this the second raised a hand and without giving any thought that this was their kin, he punched the first one squarely in the mouth."Of course you smells elves! We have prey!"The one that punched the firstargued. "We reek of elves!"

"I smell one too." A fourth answered. "Closers than the capt'ves."

"Aye. The airs reeks of them!" The third continued. "Your nose is deceived by the air."

"I saw the tree move strange, like something hides within it." The first argued. "These elves have tricks with trees and nature. One could have followed us!"

"The capt'n wants us backs…" The second responded. "I won't listen to more of this talk, maggot. There is no elf that escaped our net, and none were left that were still living."

Laitheryn tried not to breathe a sigh in relief that they would soon leave the ground under him and return to their guard. He could hear their heavy footsteps beginning to retreat from where he lay in hiding, and returning up the path they had come. He could follow them…and discover their intent for their captives.

'But that would delay my return to Greenwood… Dare I risk breaking path?'

He closed his eyes in thought, searching for an answer that was beyond him. For some reason he felt bidden to follow the orcs and their captives, and as much as he fought against that decision, none felt more right. 'I cannot leave them to their fate. I am sorry, Ada. Hold on a bit longer.'

"There!" The one that had been insistent on seeing him yelled suddenly, surprising the elf and shocking him out of his thoughts.

Laitheryn heard the projectile whistling through the air, hurled at his location by the strength of the Orc that had thrown it. The long spear like object sailed the distance between the enemy and the tree he was in, blurring in the air by the speed in which it was thrown.

There was no pause, no motion and no second to realize what had occurred, as the spear embedded painfully. His world went dark and all Laitheryn could feel was agony as the cut deepened and began to bleed out all over him. He raised his hand to his face, now covered by a dark sticky substance and stared at it in shock, unprepared for what had occurred. Laitheryn wasn't sure if he was the one screaming in agony, or if it was the tree.

* * *

Authors note: I know the forth chapter was boring, and I apologize for that. I hope this chapter and the ones upcoming are more interesting than the forth. I have plans to post the sixth chapter on saturday, April 8th.


	6. Chapter 6

A soft cry raced across Laitheryns' lips as he gazed down at the severed branch that had blocked the spear from its intended target, the world seemingly freezing in place and time stopping. The tree screamed in pain as one of its limbs began to die and bled out over the shell shocked elf that it had just saved by sacrificing a large section of itself. The tree would live past this experience, but it would forever be marred by the memory and the pain of losing one of its limbs. Laitheryn could hear it weeping and its agony in his mind, and wondered if it was not his own grief and pain that he was feeling.

He had never seen something so brave in his life; the tree immediately responding to his need over its own personal safety, and had chosen to protect him at any cost. Laitheryn had never heard something as sad as the trees' cries in agony at its sacrifice. Other trees began to moan with the first, feeling their own pain for what was lost, but they never blamed him for the choice his tree had made and despite its great pain Laitheryn realized that the tree rejoiced that he was not injured.

He had never seen nature abused as it was, so callously and coldly. He had always valued the trees, and would never forget this ones' kindness to him. If he survived this he would always sing this trees' praises until the day he sailed, and even past that in Valinor. But he would not lay still and let this brave tree of Greenwood forest die to save him.

The world returned to normal a second later and time seemed to start once more. Laitheryn rolled from his safe perch, standing upright on the branch he had laid on to hide. His hand leaving his side and flickering back to the Lorien style quiver he wore on his back an arrow found his hand and he notched it to his bow. Laitheryn was angry, more angry than he could ever recall being. And these beings would realize that nature was not to be trifled with, especially if a woodelf was around to see it.

It was with that thought that he let the arrow go, singing through the air and protruding from one of members of the small groups' chest. The Orc stared in shock, its sunken eyes not comprehending what had just occurred, not realizing that Laitheryn had just ended its life. It turned its dark eyes downwards and back to the protruding arrow, watching in stunned amazement as its lifeblood flowed out of the gaping would.

Laitheryn notched another arrow as quickly as the first and jumped backwards, ending up in a tree to his left. He let the bow sing once more as that arrow was released. This one followed the course of the first and embedded in the leaders' throat, cutting off his cry of rage that one of his comrades had died at the hands of an elf; cutting off his cry for assistance from the main party. Black blood sprouted up from the silencing arrow, following the course it had flown just before it had hit its target. That orc fell to his knees, clawing desperately at the wound in his neck, as it fought urgently to get the air into its depraved lungs, dark red foam beginning to form on his lips as he fought to live. The orc would die in a moment.

He jumped once more, switching his perch and drew another arrow out of his quiver.

"There it is! Get it!" One of them yelled, seemingly having noticed where he had landed.

The others in the group seemed to look around frantically, looking for where their comrade pointed without actually seeing him. It would only be moments until they did and Laitheryn could not take the chance of being discovered to soon. Without pause he shot his third arrow at the beast which had spotted him. There was no pause as the arrow struck and the third dead gave a horrible cry out, which made the other two start and turn back to their companion. Their rage echoed through the small valley at a third member of their party shot down by a hidden enemy.

"I'll get it! I'll kill it!"

More were arriving on the scene, being driven forth by the angered cries of their kin. Where he had killed three, it seemed that four more materialized where they had fallen. This would not end well for him, Laitheryn already knew that. But all he knew now was the pain of nature, and its sorrow. His head was too full of the calls of nature, of its grief; to even feel anything for his own safety. The trees called for him to flee, but he would not.

He turned his attention to the one that had called, also spotting his present location. To avoid their eyes he jumped once more, ending up further left of where they were searching for him. He noticed as he moved that a few turned immediately to the new tree he had landed in, they now knew where he was, evil grins already beginning to form on their faces.

"It's only one!" Another yelled. "Let's kills it."

"No…We gets more pay, the more we bring." One to the left of the first one answered. "Its only one…we can take it! Easy catch!"

Laitheryn made a promise to himself that he would not be so easily taken and they would bleed before they would have him as their captive. He would revenge the fell act that had befallen the tree, and would allow no more to be injured in his place.

Laitheryn locked his gaze onto the one that was closest to his tree, sensing a threat coming from that brutish orc. He watched as it drew forth another spear, and aimed it at him where he stood on his perch. He would not be responsible for more injuries caused to the gentle trees, never again. He released the forth arrow, watching its course as it shimmered in the sun, heading once more towards one of his enemy. It struck the one that wished had just him dead, cutting through his mid section and severing several organs that lay in its path. More blood came from this wound and Laitheryn found himself wondering how much blood would be spent on this ground today.

The elf moved his hand to the twin small blades that sat locked behind his quiver. Laitheryn instinctively knew there would be no more time for arrows; the orcs were too close for his favourite weapon to be successful. His elven blades would be more effective in this desperate situation, and he drew them forth with a flicker of his wrists. As the long daggers flew into his hands Laitheryn leapt forward from where he had landed at his last bound. He landed on a tree just in front of the orc that aimed its cruel spear at him and almost charged straight down the trunk of the tree, using his quick balance and his skill to ensure he would not fall.

The orc in obvious shock at a young elf actually charging him was slow to release the spear and stumbled backwards in surprise at his attack. Awkwardly it moved to block his charge, shifting the spear downwards from its original location aimed at the tree, towards where he was now. The orcs surrounding his target were also slow to respond to his sudden arrival, seemingly shocked that an elf would appear in such a manner when it was obvious they had the greater number and advantage, with more arriving soon.

Laitheryn did not give it a chance, evading the first swipe of the large weapon with practiced ease and the grace that all elves were born with. He spun forward, twisted around the dangerous spear, slowly following his body, but missing his intent. The spear moved once more, too slow to avoid his attack and a deep cut appeared on the orcs' chest. It gazed down in shock as its blood, following his blade moments later, spewed forth from its wound. Some of the blood splattered on Laitheryn, but he was too incensed to care.

Spinning around he dodged the quick attack of the second orc to recover from its shock and barely avoided the thick sword blade that thirsted for his blood. He dodged the descent of another sword and lunged forward, following the wake of the swing back to its owner. Before the creature could swing again Laitheryn kicked out its knee and if fell to the ground howling in rage and pain. Without waiting Laitheryn brought the twin daggers across the monsters' throat, spewing more of the black blood, drenching him with its sickly spray.

He had just pulled his blades free of its neck, letting the large orc fall to the ground in death, watching for a second as it continued to bleed out onto the earth. He did not watch any more and turned back to the approaching army.

They were like hornets, if you killed one of their members the nest would stir and more would come to the aid of the fallen companion; Laitheryn decided. He had killed more than one of the Orcs, and that had angered the rest as a result.

There was no time for him to think and no time for him to reconsider his actions. Laitheryn was too involved with this battle; in too deep to pull back now, escape was not possible. They would give him chase and bring him down quickly. He just placed his trust in himself and gave the orcs a taste of elven training, using every ounce of weapons mastery he had received during his stay in Lorien.

Spinning away from another dead body he found himself cornered by three orcs, each choosing to surround him on different angles, a third of a circle apart.

"Give it up; Elf…weain't gonna hurt you."

Not answering his defiance he leapt forward and tried to attack the one that spoke, only to have to parry the second and thirds joint attack. He dodged once more, just missing the blade that had descended on his turned back. Where it would have sliced deeply it just broke through his protective clothes and gave him a long cut instead. Laitheryn could feel his blood draining from where the orcish blade had touched his skin, as well as the clamminess of his blood.

They laughed, seeing that one had injured the elf. But their laughter died as he recovered too quickly for their shallow eyes to follow and returned to the battle. They went to attack again, with their thick swords flashing dully in the sunlight as they descended towards him. The two orcs more to his right forced him towards the third by him having to evade their thick blades, which whistled through the air as they just missed his body. He had side stepped one but then was forced to duck as the second swung for his head.

Jumping up from the position he had found himself in, Laitheryn found himself too close to the third orc. It smirked at him, showing broken teeth in a callous mouth and before he could dodge back its thick blade sliced evenly up his left arm, sending flashes of pain coursing through the young elf's' mind.

There was no way out, but Laitheryn did not believe he would escape this. The ones that were arriving were beginning to press close to the circle that surrounded him, all wanting to avenge the deaths of their companions upon him. They cheered their companions on, as they circled around him; each looking for a weakness they could use to bring him down. Laitheryn was determined they would find none.

He barely escaped the second descent of the third orcs blade, catching it with one of his own; his left arm was weakened due to the callous cut which marred his skin. But the strength of his arm held, and his small blade stayed the descent of the much larger orcish blade. In comparison his daggers looked slender and vulnerable, appearing to be quite useless against the larger weapons. But with the magic that ran the length of their course, and his skill, they would be quite effective in an attack.

It was then that Laitheryn found himself in the dead center of the circle once more; with more and more orcish faces staring down his own, and laughing openly at his wounded form. He was back where he had started, in the direct center of a circle of three orcs with no way out, and he was now injured. Laitheryn took a breath, drawing up what strength he had and trying to dull the pain that throbbed from his back as well as his arm. They laughed at him once more.

Bringing his two arms up close to him he spun shifting his direction and just missing the answering thrust of the sword of the orc that had wounded him first. He paused for just a moment, giving the orc an opening it could use to injure him once more. The sword in answer shifted course with the flat section of the blade facing upwards and reflecting the suns' light into his eyes. The dangerous rapier spun and turned in a circle towards his location. Just as it came within reach Laitheryn reacted to its intent and jumped onto the surface of the broadsword, knocking it from the orcs hand by his weight alone. The orc screamed in rage as its weapon was lost from its hand and screamed once more as Laitheyn charged forward from where he had landed now intent on causing his own harm.

Two other swords answered from his sides, forcing Laitheryn off the course he had sat, one that would have ended in the death of one of his three attackers. Evading the swing of one weapon he barely managed to sink his dagger into the arm of the orc that had lost its sword. The Orc bellowed in pain and he withdrew, spinning around to confront other. Laitheryn watched as the one he had injured clutched his arm and cursed him in a language so dark and horrible that it sent shivers down his spine. That wound would not kill that Orc, only break its concentration.

In that moment he was confronted with one sword, chopping upwards from the ground, a strike so powerful that would it have hit, it would have cleaved him in half. The sword descended a second later, and Laitheryn could feel the displaced air whistling as the weapon descended.

'_Beware!' _A voice echoed from above him, a call from the tree.

Laitheryn barely heard the warning, almost missing its call over the shouts and hisses of the Orcs and the singing of their dangerous weapons. In his distraction the second Orc of the group had made a move for the sword that had been discarded on the ground and the third was recovering from its injury. Laitheryn was so pressed by the anger of the second orc that he could do nothing to desist either.

'_Beware, Child of the Forest!' _The shout came again.

Laitheryn found no time to respond to its distressed calls. He was pressed back by the last of the three orcs, towards the one that now had two swords in hand. He fainted to the left, keeping his damaged arm low to avoid more injury, ignoring the flare of pain that lanced across his back at his move. The injured orc made its move, and he was forced to avoid its curved dagger instead. He was running out of options, save one.

'_Rally to my side.' _He called to the trees behind him.

Their branches waved, gaining strength and beginning to answer his summons. As the trees danced in the gathering winds and their branches reaching forward over the orcs surrounding him, so did he dance to avoid the weapons that would rift him of his life. He would only have one chance at this, one surprise attack. They did not recognize him to be a woodelf and assumed he would have no magic of that realm. The orcs did not realize he could call for the trees and rally them to his assistance. If they had known that, they would have surely forced the fight away from the trees behind him.

The swords flickered in the growing shadows, as the branches reached slowly out over the battle. He evaded the dagger catching it with the one he held in his right hand, while kicking the approaching orc backwards and into one of his companions, creating valuable distance between himself and their rapiers. He heard two snorts of anger, one from the beast he had kicked and the other from the one that had been behind. The orcs were so focused on their fight that they did not notice the coming darkness, and the trees response to his call.

It was then the attack came from above, as if a hailstorm had spun from the skies and overcame the group with its painful shots. But this was not ice being thrown from dark and threatening clouds, able to hit anyone that found themselves under the storm. Rather it was the trees, answering his call for aid. This hailstorm was in the form of nuts and acorns, hurled at the orcs heads, especially the ones that were closer to him.

He ducked quickly, knowing that the trees had little arsenal to offer and that he would only have moments until their strength failed. The orcs bellowed in anger at the trees and the thrown objects, tried to track his movements but screamed as the trees threw more of their hail to confuse them. Their aim was true, hitting the orcs that stood closest to him and keeping their attention off of him.

Swiftly he lunged for the orc closest to him, the one with one large broadsword that stood directly in his path. Escape was not possible, not with the number that still surrounded him, but defiance was. He charged through the prickly hail and the orc raised his sword in answer. Until a large nut hit him squarely on the back of its large head and it bellowed once more in pain.

Laitheryn did not miss his chance, dodging the confused sword that came to the orcs aid too late, and missing its chance to defend its owner. He let the sword swing past him harmlessly towards the ground. He sheathed the dagger from his right hand in the belt loop at his waist as he dodged the second distracted swing of the orcish sword. This clumsy and distracted manoeuvre missed him completely that there had been little need for him to dodge that attack at all.

The orcs were not fairing well under as more acorns launched themselves at them, keeping them all distracted, especially the one he was facing off against. The orc was struck again, and half turned to yell in anger at the trees when Laitheryns' free hand caught the orcs extended arm and forced it towards the ground, overbalancing the orc in the process. Laitheryn let go just as quickly but the damage had already been done, the subtle move had accomplished exactly what Laitheryn had intended it too. The orc stumbled forward, trying unsuccessfully to keep its footing secure on the ground, but failing just a second later. The creature fell; its own body weight strengthened the thrust of the dagger held in Laitheryn injured hand. It was with a sickening crunch that the dagger embedded directly between the monsters' eyes and despite his elven strength Laitheryn could not remove his weapon from its tomb.

It was at that moment that the power of the trees faded and Laitheryn found himself facing off against the angered orcs once more.

* * *

Well; it's the end of another chapter. Fight scenes are so easy to visualize but so difficult to write down without themlosing something in translation. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a moment of pause as the large orc fell to Laitheryns' skill. And a silence that dominated for what seemed for hours, but was only seconds. The orc fell, with the dagger still deep within its skull, and it seemed almost like a thunderous crash when the corpse hit the ground.

Laitheryn took the second to breathe, getting crucial oxygen into his lungs and calming his racing heart before turning back to the battle. In the seconds that it took for the corpse to fall he had heard whispers begin to float through the crowded orc army proclaiming him a woodelf, with tree magic. His last defence had succeeded and he was out of harms way, for that moment.

The orc with twin swords in his hands stared at the corpse then turned dark eyes back onto him. Laitheryn tried not to shiver at the malice that shone from the tainted eyes, the sheer hate that had now become directed solely at him. The monster bellowed, its angered cry echoing high above through the tree tops and it charged with both swords held defensively across its burly chest. It came within range in just a few steps, and Laitheryn raised his last dagger to attack the enraged beast.

As he turned to face this new enemy he kept an eye on the faces of the orcs surrounding the battle. Why they were holding back, despite the death of one of the three orcs within the circle, Laitheryn did not know. He assumed that this was some form of entertainment, placing an elf in unfair conditions in battle, conditions that would favour themselves. He could fall to the two left over or triumph over them, but that would still leave the horde of orcs surrounding him.

Laitheryn assumed that if he triumphed in this small battle that the orcs would just become more enraged at the deaths of their companions. It was a question of living and of possibly dying later or dying immediately. If he lived through this battle, the orcs would torture him and he may wish death, but not be granted that release. But in this day, Laitheryn decided, would not be the day his courage would fail.

The orc resumed the attack, pulling the sword in its left hand up first, followed by the second weapon, a moment later. The swords slashed down at him, trailing dangerously close to his body as Laitheryn fought to maintain distance. One would slash to his right, and he would dodge the darkened metal, only to be forced to dodge the next. He moved with all the grace and skill he had, like a leaf dancing in the wind, with no set course for its descent.

The sword to his left went for his head, just above his shoulders. He ducked this one, but the tips of his golden hair caught the blade and were sliced through. The next rapier descended not a moment later, towards the ground where he had landed from the duck. Laitheryn rolled to the left, closer to the orc and kicked out, catching the surprised orc in the back of the knee, before pulling the slim dagger he held across the length of the orc's opposite leg. It howled in pain and tried to slice downwards to avenge the hurt, only to have its target roll away once more and he sprang to his feet.

Laitheryn had slowed the orc with that move, and the third came charging in to assist its kin. The wounded orc growled and hissed, as black blood began to seep from the cut he had inflicted on the dread creature.

Sensing the motion of the third orc, crouching and making a silent move towards his turned back he caught the descending sword, which would have followed the course of the first to lance his skin. The large and bulky sword descended, before being held in place by the slim white dagger he held in one hand. The orc's sword was no match for his and the ringing of the two blades meeting echoed in Laitheryns' ears like a dull bell.

Laitheryn watched as the shock dimmed and the creature began to put more weight into the sword, trying to push the smaller dagger down. Slowly the dagger descended and Laitheryn did not fight its fall, letting the creature begin to master it with his own blade. A tense second drifted by as the orc began to smirk its win; before Laitheryn let go his hold on the weapon and spun to the side of his enemy.

Stumbling slightly forward, due to the unexpected drop in resistance the orc could not respond to his next attack. As the monster stumbled, Laitheryn embedded his slender dagger in its side, knowing that the slice had enough force behind it to puncture what organs laid in its path upwards.

The creature stumbled, this time from the fatal injury he had justinflicted, and landed next to its brethren; clutching its bleeding side. Dark blood seeped onto its gloved fingers and soaked the ground. It went to scream once, but that yell was swallowed as blood sprouted from the creatures lips instead, a sign that his attack had succeeded in destroying the creatures' lungs.

There was a moan of rage that echoed through the surrounding party, yet they did nothing to avenge two of their fallen comrades. Laitheryn had just evened the odds between him and the last orc, but he may have signed his death warrant too. The standing army would not intervene unless the third died and would not care if he fell instead. The moan died and the orcs bellowed their encouragement to the last one standing, as it recovered from his last attack.

Laitheryn rose from the kneeling position he had found himself in, and turned to meet his last challenger. He held the curved blade low, and close to his body. His daggers had been white, before this battle had begun, but now the dark blood of his enemies lay upon them. It was not a moment later when the attack began again.

The first sword hacked the air around him, spinning in a sharp circle, finding nothing but air for its efforts. The orc hissed in anger and spun the second sword towards him. Laitheryn dodged again, being forced to move backwards as the furious weapons continued to dice the air near him.

The creature swung again, and he sidestepped the dangerous blade, watching warily as the orc pushed him backwards. The second sword echoed the firsts' path and he went to move once more. His step was untrue and he stumbled over one of the bodies he had felled and landed on his back. Laitheryn felt the biting coldness of the orcs' blood mingling with what blood he had lost already.

The orcs surrounding the two fighters cheered as they watched him fall, Laitheryn could hear their victorious snorts and bellows. He fought to regain his footing, as the sword fell once more. Losing his footing on the blood drenched earth; he fell once more in front of the orc.

This time his opponent's bellow of satisfaction and victory echoed with the others and Laitheryn flinched at the noise they invoked. The left sword came swinging down towards his prone form, and he instinctively pushed his entire weight backwards. The intended death blow became instead a painful cut over his stomach, not deep enough to harm organs or their blood supply, but deep enough to hurt.

Laitheryn clenched his jaw at the new pain that sprouted up from his body as his blood began to seep from the injury. The creature smirked, not angered that he had evaded the first blow, and Laitheryn knew it was unlikely that he could miss another violent attack.

The sword the monster held in his right hand broke through the air, towards him once more. Laitheryn moving on instinct caught the blade with his own dagger. The speed of the swords' descent waned as it encountered resistance, and would not fall further than what Laitheryn would allow. All that lay in his path to death was the slim elvish blade he now held.

Laitheryn shifted his legs up, ignoring the new flash of pain that echoed as he did, and using the strength in his knee, he slammed it into the vulnerable spot on the creatures arm, breaking the bones in the orcs wrist as a result. The sword dropped lifelessly onto the ground, and the orcs hollers echoed above the rest.

Laitheryn rolled out from the prone position he had found himself in, and back to his feet. The orc, still bellowing in rage, and seemingly ignoring the agony of the broken bone attacked him once more, this time with only one sword. It lashed out harshly whistling above his head before arching downwards towards his body, intending on rifting him in half once more. The attack failed, just as the orcs strength seemed to be failing too.

With a weakening bellow it swung the sword vertically once more and Laitheryn easily evaded its descent and brought the flat side of his dagger to the top of the orcish blade. Once more the two blades meeting produced a dull clang of metal upon metal as they met. Laitheryn used his right arm to press down on the sword while his hand flickered to the quiver he still wore on his back, praying that despite his tumbles an arrow bolt would still be there.

It was seconds until he found what he sought and Laitheryn pulled the arrow out and twirled it over his left hand, spinning it so that the sharp end was facing the orc instead of the ground beneath his feet. Gripping the wooden arrow as tightly as he dared, his hand flashed out, over the two blades and over the last defence of the creature, seeking a target. With almost no noise the metal of the arrow embedded in the orc's left eye, and far enough back that it lodged deep within the monsters brain.

With a hollow shout the orc fell quickly, lying there as death caught up with it, more blood seeped onto the ground. Laitheryn took a breath, almost knowing what would occur next. He watched warily as the shock dyed on the surrounding orcish army's faces, beginning to be replaced with anger that their entertainment had failed and that their own companions lay dead instead.

He only had seconds before the attack occurred and Laitheryn took that moment to reach out to touch the subconscious of the nearby trees. If he was right in his guess, than he would soon be too distracted to call.

'_Rally to me. Send word to those that can hear your voices of what occurred here. Send word that orcs have captured elves from the woodland realm. Lead them here.'_

He did not hear the trees reply as the circle began to close. The orcs surrounding him seemed to charge at once. It was like a cresting wave of water, breaking over turf; much of it spilled to the way side. The orcs that were closest were pressed inwards as the masses charged, or were trampled if they did not move. It was then that Laitheryn found himself surrounded by orcs on all sides and he abandoned himself to a hopeless fight.

He could not have said what had occurred, his memory was confused with flips and leaps and of ducks and rolls. He did what he could to avoid the orc weapons that fell towards him and was sometimes rewarded with a kill of his own. And yet the small number of lives he ended, it seemed that their numbers increased five fold for every life he finished.

He could not say what had occurred, or how he avoided being killed by the falling flashes of metal. Laitheryn did not know what instinct had saved him from that death and worse injuries. The swarm increased until the light of day vanished, by the darkness of the orcish bodies surrounding him. He was knocked to the ground, and registered the shock of the fall. Right after a flash of pain echoed a blow to his head. Too spent to recover, and resume the attack, he lay there stunned.

He blinked in agony as the rushing pain in his head made his vision waver and flicker from blackness to what was occurring around him and then back. He knew in that moment that the blow had been strong enough to nearly render him unconscious, and only by sheer will power did he stay awake.

He could feel their hands on him, taking any weapon he had still on him, searching him thoroughly. He shuddered internally at the cold leather touching him, but could not find the strength to struggle back. His bow and quiver were removed, from his back as well as the last dagger he had. Laitheryn tried to fight back and regain what they had just taken, but his attempt failed as one of the orcs' kicked him solidly in the ribs.

Laitheryn coughed at the blow and tasted blood upon his lips, aware enough to know that the attack had probably broken bone. Another kick followed this one, and another lance of pain erupted from his back this time as another cruel orc left a mark upon his skin. There were several others blows, leaving him breathless as a result of both the answering pain and the strike that had preceded it.

He was in such shock from his injuries that he did not feel the touch of the dagger to his skin. He only became aware that their tactics had changed when the dagger sliced lightly into his arm; causing more pain than permanent harm. Another flickering slice cut above the first and he bit his lip to avoid the whimper of agony that so wanted to come out.

The orcs behind that one laughed as more of his skin bled under the grievous attacks of the dagger, slowly working up his arms in their torture. Each time the blade touched his skin and drew more blood from his body, he refused to cry out in pain, or let anything show through his control, he refused to give the orcs their satisfaction. But inside where none could hear him save himself, he cried in pain and agony.

Despite the pricks of the dagger, and the occasional punch or kick to his body Laitheryn drew from his connection with the trees, finding comfort in their soft songs to him. They drew him away from the pain he was experiencing.

_Rally to my side…' _He whispered to them and saw the trees wave in acknowledgement.

The message had been sent, traveling through the trees of this corner of Greenwood to where the elves dwelled. The trees would carry the message to wherever the hidden city of the Elvenking lay and help may come now that they had an incline of where to look. Despite the lances of pain that were boiling through his body, he smiled internally.

There were more blows, of both feet and knife and he refused to submit to their torments. They could continue as they were and rift him of his life and he would not to utter a sound. His refusal to submit to the torture seemed to anger the orcs and one brought forth the beautifully carved Lorien bow and quiver to where Laitheryn could observe what was occurring. He closed his eyes at the image of freedom they emitted, knowing that the orcs would destroy them near him. They would wish him to see his weapons destroyed, as they would think that his hope would die with them. They did not know of the message he had sent.

"Pretty Elf likes pretty weapons…" One taunted and Laitheryn did not say a word.

It snarled and took both ends of his treasured bow, twisting it until it snapped under the relentless pressure. A second sound of wood breaking rifted him of his quiver. It now lay there, hacked into quarters by the quick hands of the orcs around him. Two more kicked him, sending more pain up from the bruises he already sustained. And more kicks found his skin.

He almost gasped in agony as the last strike found his ribs once more, his vision swimming in blinding whiteness at the ferocity of the blow. Laitheryn felt himself trembling in pain in the aftermath as his vision returned to normal seconds later. He took a quivering breath, but would not allow any more sounds to pass his lips.

"That's enough." One orc began.

It caught the arm of the orc to its left, stopping it from delivering yet another blow to mar his skin further. Seconds later the orc to stop the torture kicked another to consolidate its point. "If you kill it now, that's one less we get paid for!"

"It's already half dead!" The one with the dagger protested. "Why not kill it and bring its body as proof?"

"Because the master wants 'em alive." The first answered adding another sharp jab of his fist to emphasize his control. "The more the better, his words were. You can anger him if you wish death."

To this the second orc seemed to reconsider its intent and placed the dark dagger back in its sheath. Several others howled in anger at its decision, but at a look from the first one to speak, they became silent. They did not wish to invoke the wrath of this particular orc, or of their mysterious master.

Laitheryn knew the orcs protection was fragile and would end as soon as it saw he was recovered enough to endure more pain. But for now he had a reprieve from the torment. His vision darkened once more and he fought to remain conscious; closing his eyes as if that act could block out the agony of the wounds he had endured.

"As you wish." The one growled out before rising.

Laitheryn watched dully as the creature took his elven dagger from the hands of another orc and walked to a nearby tree. Laitheryn did not trust their intent, despite not knowing where this action was leading.

"'ese ones like the trees." It hissed out, idly stroking the bark of the tree with a flat hand.

Laitheryn would have had to be hard of hearing to have missed the trees protest at the foul touch.

"Hurt a tree…you hurts 'em." It continued maliciously.

Laitheryn drew a breath of protest at the act he was sure was to occur, wanting to drive the orcs attention back onto himself. He found his voice too late to save the tree, as the creature changed from running a cold hand over the bark. Without a change in expression his dagger was embedded into the heart of the tree, and left there in foul testimony of what had occurred.

They could not hear the tree screams in agony, could not feel its grief and pain, and did not sense the tree dying. They did not hear the cries becoming moans and then whimpers as the tree slowly died and it strength faded as the wound bled out. It would have no consolation for the hurt it had endured at the cruel hand of the enemy.

The orcs could not hear its pained cries, and its sobs as it slowly drifted away in death. And then the silence, the horrible silence that came from the tree after it passed. The silence ate away at him, where once that tree had a voice it was now silenced forever by the cunning darkness, never again to be heard. Laitheryn closed his eyes against the tears that wanted to fall as the tree died.

They could torture him all they wished, nothing would ever compare to the pain he had just endured listening and sensing the tree die. A tree had died because he had run to them for protection. Because of their involvement in the battle and because of his connection to them one of the trees of Greenwood had fallen into the darkness of death. An innocent had fallen, and Laitheryn could not help but blame himself. He had sworn that another would not be hurt due to their involvement and he had failed them.

'_Namarie.' _He thought. _'I am sorry.' _

'_We do not blame you, Forest Child. We sorrow, but we do not blame... Your message as been sent."_

'_Hannon le…'_

His thought broke and he tried not to cry out. Not at the pain the orcs had inflicted on him, but in memory of the tree. Never in all his days would he forget it, Laitheryn knew that memory would remain with him forever and nothing would ever ease its passing.

His mind was dulled by the death, shocked into a stupor in which the pain inflicted on him he could not feel; if there were any blows that had come after. It was as if his mind had left his body, traveling past what was occurring to him to a realm where he did not care. In his heart he sang for the passing of the tree, grieved for it, and did not feel his own pain. His mind was too overwhelmed with the aching cries of nature to feel his own agony.

There was nothing worse the orcs could do to him that would ever over reach that. Distantly he heard their dark voices whispering about him. And soon did not hear any more as his consciousness faded to darkness and he could not hear the weeping of the forest any longer.

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Well, that's the end of another chapter. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought of this chapter...I'd like to thank all of those that have reviewed this story already.


	8. Chapter 8

I apologize for the lateness of this update. I was extremely busy and didn't get a moment to myself.

Unfortunately the fight scenes are over for awhile (there will be more later.) This chapter is more to explore Laitheryn's past.

Please review and leave constructive critisms if you wish. I like hearing the opinions of my readers. Thanks to those that have reviewed already.

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He could not see past the veil of darkness that surrounded him, as if his senses had been rift of him and he had been left idle in their wake. The darkness seemed to be everywhere around him and never seemed to end. Laitheryn likened it to falling into a void in the deepest of nights; when not even the suns' light could reach through. It seemed to be around him, and yet be a part of him at the same moment. Laitheryn had the impression that his body and mind were separate and this darkness was only in the latter.

There was something he should have remembered. Some recent event that had been swept from his mind in the darkness Laitheryn had found himself in. Some grievance, some pain, something had occurred; but what he did not know. But as he fought to recall the incident, the darkness pressed deeper and he surrendered to its call as an unknown agony swept him away and he knew no more of the night that was around him.

It seemed as if he had closed his eyes and then opened them once more, but he was conscious enough to know that more time had passed than that act would allow. Laitheryn expected to see the same gloom that had been around him earlier, but he found himself in a forest; in a memory.

It played out before his eyes, viewed from the child he had been so long ago. Of his first horse, a dark tan coloured animal with soft eyes. He dreamt of their rides with other elflings at his side. Above them towered the majestic branches of deep brown and autumn coloured leaves, just ready to fall. When they did, there would be a celebration; a feast which all would attend.

A rustle in the trees distracted the elflings from their talk and Laitheryn watched as a leaf broke free of its confines and drifted in the soft breeze straight down towards him. He watched, from the child's vision as the leaf fell and was not surprised when a childlike hand reached forward and caught the leaf gently. It was a green leaf.

The other children in his vision came forward to see what he had caught, and Laitheryn recalled the sensation as their own horses neared his until they surrounded him. He sensed their gazes lock on the object he held in his hand. The one his own vision self gazed at. And a child from that memory spoke, her voice echoing in his mind even now.

"How amusing, that you would be the one to catch the last green leaf of the summer."

Laitheryn frowned at her words, as his vision self and the other elflings laughed. He did not understand why that had amused the small group gathered around him, and he equally was confused at his own laughter at her simple words.

The children of the image, Laitheryn first identified them as friends of that child he was. Then their names began to flash through his mind, to quickly for him to catch them all. But he was thankful for the names he did hear from his subconscious.

As he tried to memorize their childish faces, Laitheryn almost gasped at the pain that ran through him, leaving him almost shaking as it passed. The memory faded and another replaced it.

This one involved the horse he had seen just moments prior, in another ride through the deep forest that had once been his home. Only he was riding another horse, not the one Laitheryn identified as his own. The soft tan horse followed obediently in the wake of the other two horses he knew to be there.

It seemed that some time had passed between the first vision and the next. 'Or,' his thoughts continued. 'This memory may have, in fact, occurred before the first vision.'

Laitheryn sensed more than saw the presence of his Nana riding beside the child. Her presence in the vision, and even now, soothed Laitheryns' mind. 'Please look at her.' He prayed to the child he had been. 'I wish to see her again.' He called despite knowing his past self could not hear. 'Please, Valar. Let me see her.'

As if bidden by his silent plea, the child did look over and Laitheryn was granted his longing to see his mothers' face once more. She rode a mottled grey and black horse. She turned her attention over at him, for something he had said to her; her golden curls falling free around her face and glinted in the soft sunlight. He spoke again and her brilliant smile brightened his heart and he and the child smiled in return. Her laugh echoed in his ears, and Laitheryn felt his heavy heart brighten.

He had been tired then, and had leaned back and nestled into the protective embrace of his Ada, content to be held as the distance passed them by. A moment later his Ada's arm tightened around him, securing him where he was. Somehow, Laitheryn had recalled that his Adar had been there, but he still felt a flash of surprise for his presence.

Laitheryn was aware that the child had closed his eyes for the barest of moments, and as the vision darkened by the child's action it did not return. He was surrounded by the dark once more, but it now seemed more forceful than before. As if, somewhere, he had become aware of some pain in the outside world; a pain he did not feel here.

Then it felt as if the darkness spun, twisting him in many directions at once. Laitheyn clung to whatever anchor he could in the spinning darkness, but soon felt like he was being dragged back into its depths. He likened the feeling to one of being blown by a strong wind and having not enough strength to withstand its power.

It seemed the more he fought against the darkness, the more confused his mind became. Laitheryn fought as long as his energy would allow, struggling against the dizziness that threatened to claim him. It seemed only moments later when a burning pressure seemed to erupt from his head, leaving him cold where the pressure did not apply. Laitheryn became aware a moment later that his left arm, back and stomach also pained him greatly. And yet, despite this physical agony he was in, there was another injury that haunted him more.

It was then he became aware of something that seemed to match the steady rhythms of drums near him, and a fleeting impression of being hauled over the shoulder of something. He shuddered internally and his mind blanked once more, and Laitheryn found himself retreating to the darkness.

There seemed to be no distance between his temporary surrender to when he became conscious of another vision.

He stood in a large clearing, where no tree grew. Behind him, in this vision was a large building that cast flickering shadows over his child self and the other elves that stood with him. The trees that were absent from where the child stood, grew normally a short distance away, their shadows becoming darker as the forest deepened.

Ahead of the child, there lay several posts, with large targets embedded on them. On those, Laitheryn noted, that there were several circles each becoming smaller as they neared the center. Laitheryn found himself wondering what was occurring here.

Just as that thought emerged, an answer appeared. The child he was lowered his gaze to a bow he held in little hands. Laitheryns' breath caught in his throat as he beheld the object. It was dark, darker than the Lorien bow he had, and had a golden leaves cast into the pitch wood by skilled hands. It did not escape the elf's notice that the bow was similar in design to the bows the Greenwood elves commonly uses in combat and competitions. 'Ada made that for me.'

Laitheryn was not sure where that thought had emerged from, but did not doubt it was true. That small bow had been a gift from his Ada, but where it was now, he did not know.

The child slowly notched the bow with little hands and just as slowly aimed at the target directly in front of him. 'Archery; of course. Haldir said I showed much promise as an archer. I had wondered why I preferred the bow.'

His younger self released the arrow and both watched as it found its way to the target one across from the one he had aimed it at. Laitheryn felt a flicker of pride for being able to hit something at that tender age, but consternation that it was not the target he had wished.

"I hit it! I hit it, Ada." The child's voice echoed from the vision.

The elfling turned to face the one he addressed as he spoke. 'At least I am contented with that accomplishment as a child. I should not be so hard on myself. I was but a child.'

"Aye, you did. You do well for one so young." His Ada answered.

Laitheryn took that moment to take in the elder elf's appearance. Not much had changed from his first glances at the one that had sired him. He still had flowing golden hair, donned up in small braids just above his ears, and one behind his head, holding the rest of his golden hair out of his face. The elf wore forest green that matched the colour of his eyes exactly. That was something he had not noticed before, despite their similarities in face, their eyes were of different hues.

"I hit the wrong one." The child continued suddenly, breaking Laitheryn's concentration off his Ada.

'Apparently not much has differed between myself and that child. That trait has seemed to have passed through without problem.' He continued musing.

"Aye. But you, at least, hit one of them." The elder elf countered.

This did not seem to work, as the elfling he had been, seemed to pull further into the pout that had been threatening to appear. Laitheryn saw the laughter in his Ada's eyes and knew now that elf had humoured him.

"As you grow, you will become better. With practice, Penneth, your shot will improve. Have patience, ion – nin."

That vision faded just after those words. But Laitheryn could not help the pleasure he felt at his Ada's words and the affection behind them. Those words alone gave him hope, and he reaffirmed he would not fail.

Then he shuddered as if touched by a cold hand. Laitheryn frowned, becoming aware that something had brushed his forehead. In response a flash of agony erupted from that area. The darkness seemed to thin, for the barest of moments and Laitheryn struggled once more to be rid of this dark world. Without warning the pain returned and Laitheryn found himself retreating back into the now welcoming darkness.

The cold touch came again, as if trying to force his mind and body to reconnect. Laitheryn knew that he was probably unconscious, only awake partially. His consciousness was dimmed, allowing for his subconscious (the holder of his past) free reign. Without the controls he had cast over himself, his memories were beginning to emerge, but he had yet to hear his name.

Something wet touched his forehead once more and Laitheryn shuddered and wished he was conscious enough to tell the being to desist its attempts to retrieve him of this realm. But there was something of the liquid touching his face that brought a memory to the surface. And as if bidden to recall that event, his mind brought it forth.

This memory was not as pleasant as the first had been, it left him shivering and cold just as it began.

He was running, and at first that was all Laitheryn knew. Laitheryn could sense the flickers of the trees that he passed and dodged to gain distance. He was aware of the quick footsteps echoing the rapid beating of the small child's heart. The child's gaze was locked on the ground, as he ran; as if to avoid tripping over unseen roots and bramble. He could hear his child self whimper as the desperate flight continued. Something had happened. Something horrible had happened, and even now Laitheryn could sense the trauma of that event.

The child's gaze filled with salty tears, and they coursed freely down his small face as he ran. This was not a game, something pursued him; something he feared greatly but could not place.

The child was afraid, terrified even. That description came closer to the amount of panic that Laitheryn felt drifting from the little being. Whatever followed in the wake of the elfling was clearly some great evil. For the child's fear seemed to have affected him, in the present. Laitheryn felt his own heart quicken in response to his past self's plight.

The little golden haired elfling cast a desperate glance behind him as the chase continued. Laitheryn sensed the motion from the trees above them, at the same moment as the child did. Something came from the trees, and even in the vision Laitheryn could hear their calls, and their attempts to warn the elfling of the great danger that followed.

But his past self was too scared to respond and with another heart wrenching whimper he changed direction. The rivets of tears that came from the little one's eyes flickered off his face at the turn and now streaked behind them. From the corner of the elfling's eyes, Laitheryn caught the sight of something dark pounce from the trees where he had been just moments before. 'A spider.'

This time, Laitheryn was sure he had whimpered at the same moment as the child had, but could not be sure. He heard the hiss come from the creature that had landed and knew that it had scaled another tree in pursuit of its intended victim.

The deadly game of hunter and prey continued, with the frightened child. Laitheryn heard the whispered Nana that brushed past the golden elflings lips, and could not explain the grief that boiled up from his soul at that. Surely he had just been separated from his family in the forest and they had not been able to aid him. But in his soul, Laitheryn knew that was not the answer, and something worse had transpired instead.

There was a new panic rising from the child. And Laitheryn realized that the spider had vanished once more from view and could not be tracked in the trees. He continued to run for his life, away from the fearsome predator that haunted his steps. Dimly near him, Laitheryn could hear the whisperings of a river ahead of him, but wondered if his mind did not imagine the sounds in the panic.

Suddenly during the flight something changed, a great amount of pressure descended from the trees. The child, caught underneath the spiders' strike was sent flying due to the extra weight added to him, and he lost grip on the small bow he held.

Laitheryn had not realized that his child self had that bow in hand as he ran and was surprised to see it skidding away from him. He saw the child's desperate gaze lock on where the weapon landed, hidden in the shadow of a young group of trees, to far to reach.

The spider a top of the child, hissed in satisfaction; ignoring its captives struggles and the cries that emitted from his lips. It seemed only seconds before a great pain erupted from Laitheryns' back, and the elf likened it to being pierced by a sharp sword. But no sword he had encountered stung as painfully as that wound had.

The spider had bitten him, sending a dose of its vile toxins into his blood. Laitheryn was not sure if he was actually feeling the pain his past self had felt at the foul wound, or just recalling it. Either way it was incredibly painful; Laitheryn was extremely lucky that the spiders bite had not been strong enough to kill him.

Laitheryn could feel the little one's strength weakening as the burning pain emitting from the bite continued. It felt as if hot fire had been applied under his skin and left to sit there. Worse, Laitheryn recalled while watching this scene play out was; the pain and the fiery sensation spread from the initial location of the attack and began to consume the rest of his body. Almost immediately the heat of the bite seemed to have warmed his body past what he was comfortable with.

It was in that moment that the elfling laid still, as if giving up in his struggles with the spider. The elder elf knew what his past had thought at that moment, let the spider think it has won and then fight back. Surely enough the spider hissed in pleasure that its prey had finally stayed still.

Laitheryn recalled his panic as he listened to the insects' hiss, and the elflings' battle over his fear to not react too soon. The spider gave another hideous sound to express its satisfaction and Laitheryn sensed its intent to sting him once more. A second sting would have surely killed him; and Laitheryn was surprised that he survived the first.

The child lay still no longer and struck out when the creature was least expecting a counter attack. As its defences lowered against an attack, the golden haired elfling lashed out, kicking upwards with as much force as he could have mustered at that moment. The child's aim was true, and the hit was strong enough and came unexpected. The insect flew upwards, towards the trees it had descended from when it pounced, and off his small form. Laitheryn heard the spider fall somewhere behind the child he had been.

With the knowledge he had attained since that point, and hindsight in Laitheryns' favour; he knew the blow did more than dislodge the insect from his back. He had learned from the Greenwood representative that the spiders had one weakness, one they guarded most fiercely. Their stomachs were sensitive and could they be reached; it would cause great pain or death if hit by enough force. Unfortunately for the child he had been, the kick neither had the force nor the power to end the insects' life; but it would slow his attacker down.

The spider had fallen backwards and landed harshly on the forest floor due to his past self's strike. Not a second after the fall the creature hissed in anger as its brain interpreted the pain caused to it by its prey. Either it was strength or stubbornness alone that made the child continue; whichever it happened to be it was enough to draw the elfling up to his feet. Laitheryn recalled the agony that erupted from the bite as the elfling struggled to his feet and took clumsy steps in direction of the promised river.

The uncertain steps continued, as the child moved through the intervening forest. As the golden haired elfling continued in his slow race to the waters edge, Laitheryn could remember the burning in his body rising as he moved. The fever had set in, as the toxins continued to assault his body; the faster he moved the quicker the toxins would render him unconscious and at the mercy of the recovering spider.

Whatever will possessed the little one did not wane, as the river came closer in view. Laitheryn sensed the elfling place all of his concentration into reaching its banks. As the child stumbled on, in agony, the spider recovered from the attack and began to trace him once more. The small elfling seemed to sense the spider too, and tried to pick up the pace he was forced to maintain at the pursuit.

It would have been over in moments after the spider recovered. But by some luck, or by the will of the Valar, his past self's last defence seemed to have wounded the spider too for it did not muster the speed they were known for when following the elfling.

Sensing the movement the child had risked a glance behind, so close to his goal. The motion made his head spin, as he turned back to the deep waters. Unconsciousness was quickly catching up with the child, and it would not be long until he lost the battle.

The chase continued, and Laitheryn could feel the elfling's panic beginning to fade as the poisons began to take hold, and numbing his mind to all that had occurred. Laitheryn remembered that he had still felt the agony of the bite and the burning sensation, but now it seemed less painful than before. Without his control, the elflings eyes drifted shut, only to be forced open once more.

The more he struggled to the river, the harder his struggles were becoming. It had seemed, at the time; that even the lifting of one foot was a great chore and required much energy. It was as if his weight had been multiplied greatly, and his strength reduced, as if a great weight had been attached to him; with the intent to pull him down with every foot fall.

Laitheryn knew at that moment that his eyes were failing him, having not noticed until almost too late that a rock lay in his path. A mistake, even a stumble, could not have been made, for it would have cost his life. If he had fallen at that moment, Laitheryn doubted he would haveregained his feet.

The spider was closing, beginning to recover from the recent attack. If he fell, the spider would pounce once more and sting him until he could not fight back.

Somehow he made it past the rock, without missing the pace he had set and continued, with heavy feet to the waters edge. There was a small hill before the water, one that led into the depths. It was then that Laitheryn knew that the spider was nearly upon him, just seconds away from pouncing. He sensed the elfling panic further at the momentary attack and finally he fell.

Under infirm ground the child managed to dodge the next strike of the insect. Instead the ground gave way further and the helpless child rolled down the small escarpment and out of harms way. Laitheryn could remember the shocking fall and the equally shocking introduction to the cool water to his fevered body. The elfling did not have the strength to evade the rivers current and was swept away.

Laitheryn fought, in the vision, and with the present darkness that surrounded him like the cold waters; neither had the will to give in. The child was driven under the deep water by his failing strength; he could not count the number of times he fought for the surface and was only rewarded with one precious gulp of air before the water took him once more. As the little elfling fought for the surface, struggling through the pressures of the welcome embrace of unconsciousness and towards life, Laitheryn found himself fighting the darkness that was around him.

There was great pain, but as in the past and so true now, Laitheryn would not be defeated by pain alone. If the child he had been could have survived both the bite and the river's fury, he too could survive whatever had occurred both in the past as well as the present.

The small one continued with the battle over the river and just as it seemed most helpless the elfling found the surface. As the child gained what he sought and precious air, Laitheryn found the vision wavering and instead of water or the darkness he found himself staring into an intense light instead.


	9. Chapter 9

YAY. It's the chapter everyone's been waiting for. Laitheryn awakens and has his first encounter with Woodelves. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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His first awareness after the darkness fled from his vision, was light; a burning, searing light that seemed to spark and shimmer right in front of his eyes. It was as if a brilliant fire had been lit only inches away from his face, with no protecting from its burn. Laitheryn opened his eyes for a split second and wished he hadn't as the light continued to burn. He all but closed his eyes to the unfair light so as not to upset his eyes once more.

The second awareness he had was pain. It seemed as if his entire body had suffered some injury, with no area untouched. His arms hurt, as if thousands of needles had embedded themselves onto his skin. His stomach hurt as well as his back; and he could feel the wetness of his tunic on his skin. It was wet with his blood. His head spun with confused memories and motions that his body was not undertaking, like he was swirling round in a river. 'Ai…the river.'

That stopped him for a second on his mental musings, he had regained more memories of his past while he laid vulnerable in unconsciousness. His recollections had not fled when he regained his senses, they stayed locked in his mind. He dragged his thoughts away from those recollections and began to sort out what had occurred.

Laitheryn was struck more with impressions, over memories. There had been a battle, a desperate fight that he could not win. He had a sense of being surrounded by Orcs, with their bodies blocking out the light of the sun. Laitheryn could almost hear the clash of metal on metal, sounding like a dulled bell in his ears. He could almost feel the presence of a cruel blade cutting into his skin constantly, with flickers of his blood following its course. The trees screams as it died…its pain as its existence ended.

That is what marred him so. That is why his heart felt so heavy in his chest and why his soul bled.

The light, it burned his eyes so painfully. As if he had left sheer darkness and entered a room lit well by candles; it pierced through the cloudy confusion of his mind and forced his attention back. The radiance seemed to brighten further, and unknowingly Laitheryn responded by opening his eyes once more to the lights that were surrounding him, hoping that his vision would have recovered enough so he could actually gain a sense of his surroundings.

Laitheryns' vision did not recover and his eyes felt as if a sun had exploded near then and blinded him painfully with his brilliance. The sparks of lights became one and his vision swam with more confusion than before. Laitheryn blinked slowly, opening his eyes slower than before to help with his recovery.

"He awakens." A males' soft voice drifted through his internal thoughts.

He frowned internally, analyzing the gentle voice that echoed from somewhere above him. It was not cruel and harsh, not an orc voice, but an elf. Was he safe? Did the Orc's attack fail? Did the aid he called for come when he was unawares?

And yet he did not feel safe. As if the evil that had taken him and the Woodelves still surrounded them. Laitheryn could almost pick up the sense of displeasure from the voices of nature near him. He could just hear their words over the rushing pounding sensation that escaped from his head. They spoke of danger all around.

"Laitheryn?" The elves voice echoed once more.

So the Orc's had allowed the elves to tend to the injured, that was unlike them. The darkened species usually did not care for any, and cared not if their captives died from their cold hands or the injuries they had sustained. 'Yet they need us. The more the better.'

They did not wish to see their hard earned 'prey' die so easily, for their pay increased for every elf they brought to their 'master'. It was not care they afforded to their captives, just ensuring the maximum reward. 'What do you pay orcs? They have no need for money…' His thought shuddered away from that thought, after being supplied by many answers; sickening by almost all standards.

"Laitheryn."

It was then he realized that the voice had been speaking to him, while he mused quietly to himself. The half familiar voice also seemed to know his name and had called him by it. Laitheryn was sure his expression must have shown the confusion that spread through his mind. Had he been recognized by the Woodelves that were captured too? Did one call to him now?

He thought back further, knowing that the name the golden lady had bestowed on him was not the one he had answered to previously. The name Laitheryn suited him well, for he had been told by many that he was a 'Forest Spirit.' Yet there was another name...his real name.

Laitheryn found himself sighing internally. If the Woodelves had indeed recognized him, would they not have used the name they knew him by? He felt the crushing disappointment that it was not they that called, but another. The one that spoke to him was an elf he had met after receiving the name Laitheryn; one that had come from Lothlorien, or a visitor to that realm. And yet this strange elf was at least familiar to him.

"Awaken, Mellon nin." The voice insisted.

It was then the elf that belonged to the voice started a most annoying thing; tapping gently on his face with soft fingertips. This was an attempt to force his mind to focus and rouse him from the daze that affects all after awakening from a long sleep. An irritated sigh escaped his lips and the gentle tapping stopped a moment later as if the elf sensed he had won. Laitheryn would not surrender back to the daze that had held him previously.

Sighing once more Laitheryn opened his eyes more, giving himself time to adjust to the burning light that assaulted his vision. Gradually his eyes obeyed his requests and focused on the face that was hovering above him and began to take in the details of that face.

"Good."

The first sight Laitheryn traced out where the concerned blue grey eyes of the Elf above him, eyes that looked like a cool mist over a forest lake. Their eyes met and Laitheryn saw the relief that flickered across the elf's features and a quick smile that darted across the elf's lips, despite the situation they found themselves in. The smile died and it was replaced with a serious expression once more. The elf's dark hair traveled messily down the elf's shoulders and fell mid way down his chest.

This elf he recognized, as one of two that bore the same appearance. Only those that knew the two well could identify which was which. Laitheryn knew he narrowed his eyes as their names began to circle in his mind before he randomly picked the first that came to the top of his mind.

"Elladan?" Laitheryn questioned, finding his voice hoarse as if it had not been used in some time.

The elf nodded to his question asserting that he had guessed right.

"Laitheryn. T'is good to see your memory is undamaged. You have suffered many injuries."

"T'was a guess…"

"Ah. Yet it shows promise."

He found his thoughts beginning to drift towards what the elder son of the Lord of Imladris was doing here. Laitheryn could find no explanation of how this odd occurrence and did not wish the only answer he could arrive at. Somehow Elladan had been captured from Imladris. He found himself wondering if all the orcs that infested Arda had not come for this venture at capturing elves.

This was too methodical for them; something of greater intelligence was planning this mission, and not another orc. Someone had set the orc's to watch Imladris, Greenwood, and possibly Lorien too. This attack showed much organization, too much for Laitheryn's comfort.

Drifting from that thought, he sensed eyes upon him; eyes that did not belong to the elf that was sitting near him. Laitheryn flickered his gaze around looking to see where the gazes came from but could not see past the bodies blocking his view. The gazes, he could sense were not hostile; merely curious and meant him no harm. Laitheryn could feel himself tensing as the eyes continued to study him.

'Perhaps it is because they do not recognize me.' He mused before the thought inverted. 'Or maybe because they do.'

"How do you feel, Mellon Nin?" Elladan questioned suddenly driving his attention back to the conversation.

"I am fine. Worry not."

"You are the last awake; and seemed to have suffered some of the greater injuries."

"I was last found." Laitheryn explained.

"Your injuries are healing slower than I would wish." Elladan answered.

Laitheryn fought the urge to close his eyes in grief. Elves typically healed fast, and did not suffer injuries as long as mortals. If he did not know better Laitheryn would assume that the injuries he sustained were not healing due to the pain he felt for the tree. As if that pain were slowing his intrinsic healing ability.

"I know." Laitheryn said finally, not wishing to speak of what was on his mind. "I will be fine. Worry not."

It still took a lot of energy to speak and he did so slowly and did not say much. The fragile energy he had recouped during his unplanned rest would surely fade soon and he desperately wanted questions answered before he would rest once more.

"And I'm an Or--…" Elladan stated before breaking off suddenly his gaze locking on something that lay out of Laitheryn's sight.

Laitheryn was sure he knew what had attracted the elder elf's attention and guessed why he did not wish to finish that thought. Any reminder of what situation existed was not what they needed at the moment.

"Warg." Elladan finished finally after a pause. "How do you really feel?"

"Truly?" Laitheryn questioned.

"Aye."

"Like…Like…an Orc stepped on my head." He all but whispered finally finding a comparison that would suit the pounding that still came from that region.

"That is all together possible."

There was a pause in the conversation as Laitheryn rested up his strength to continue their discussion. He could feel himself beginning to tire, and he had not managed to ask what he wished. The eyes upon him must have taken note of the annoyed expression beginning to creep onto his face. For now it seemed that more had taken up the practice of scrutinizing him and that annoyed him even more.

"You… spoke, a moment before you woke. I barely caught the words." Elladan started. "You said something about falling in a river. You did not fall in the Anduin again, Mellon nin?"

"I did not fall." Laitheryn accused.

The eyes took note of his tone once more, and he sensed some glancing towards the young lord that set next to him.

"It was graceful Laitheryn, not like a fall at all. More like a dive."

"You pushed me in!"

"Nay…That was Elrohir that pushed you."

"My memory is not that affected, Elladan."

"Ai. I had wished that would have worked."

This quiet banter was to keep their spirits raised, so they would not become prematurely depressed at their capture. Both he and Elladan wished to focus on anything other than the situation that would await them when they reached whatever destination the orc's had in mind. They would need all of their strength then and fought to maintain their hopes.

It was a losing battle.

"What has occurred?" Laitheryn questioned after a moment of silence.

Laitheryn pulled his attention back to the son of the Lord of Imladris, not missing the gazes that followed every expression on his face and seemed mesmerized on every word he spoke. Laitheryn began to find himself more annoyed at the elves that seemed so interested in him. 'If they recognize me, why do they stay silent?'

"Patience." Elladan recommended sagely. "You are still injured."

"Aye…and likely to stay injured for some time to come. It will not do me any harm to fulfill my curiosity. I am sure you have examined me already and are well aware of what injuries I have sustained. You do not need to look me over again."

Laitheryn paused after that, taking deep breaths to regain his strength from that speech.

"Is that an order?" Elladan teased, ignoring the situation around them.

"Aye, if it gets you talking."

"You are an ill tempered patient." Elladan broke in. "My father would have words for me if he knew what I was about to do."

Laitheryn smiled to himself, knowing that he had won that direction of the dialogue. Elladan would answer what he could. The ever present eyes seemed to trace his smile. He would not let them get to him. His internal display of ill temper would not erupt further. It was the situation he had found himself in that was making him tense, nothing else. The eyes had better quit soon though, their constant gaze was unnerving.

"I will not go into the long version of my tale. Only that I was on patrol with other guards from Imladris when we were set upon by scores of Orcs. It did not seem to matter how many we killed, more seemed to melt from the trees and the hills around us. Eventually we were overwhelmed and the majority of our numbers were defeated. Only three escaped their net; I last saw them fleeing back in the direction of Imladris to warn Ada of what had occurred Most of us sustained some form of injury due to that battle and I was rendered unconscious due to a injury. We were forced to travel over the mountains and down to the other side." Elladan paused there gaining his breath.

'This is too well planned.' Laitheryn thought to himself.

"We met up with the group that had you and the Greenwood elves shortly after coming down from the mountains and we have been traveling with you for two days. The other healers of the combined group and I convinced the orcs that many elves would die if they were not treated for their injuries. They were not happy but allowed some enough freedom to treat those we could. They bound our feet and not our hands, when we are at rest." Elladan explained shifting slightly so that Laitheryn had view of his bindings.

"Have you any sense of our location."

"I believe we are heading south from Mirkwood, following parallel to the course of the Anduin. But we are not within sight of the river. I do not know our exact location."

"Ah."

Laitheryn wished he could have more information than what he had been given. But he stayed quiet and listened to Elladan as he continued.

"When I noted that you were among those from Greenwood, and seemed to be greatly injured, I slowly manoeuvred myself closer to you so I could observe your injuries."

"I thank you for your concern."

"You are my friend." Elladan stated.

"There must be more injured that I?"

"You are the last awake. The other healers and I decided I would sit with you until you awoke."

"Ah. I hope I was not a burden."

"Not to your friends, Laitheryn. Those that love you would never see you as a burden."

"How many are there?" Laitheryn asked, realizing he had no sense of the numbers of elves or orcs.

"At least forty elves guarded by over a hundred well armed orcs."

"Over a hundred! T'is some foul undertaking that has occurred here. I fear this is too intelligent for their minds alone. Some dark force guides them now."

"I fear you are correct. Yet I hear nothing of the name of their master." Elladan sighed. "I did not realize you had relocated to Greenwood. Last I heard you were staying in Lorien."

"I was." Laitheryn started, after adjusting to the sudden change in topics. "I thought it was time to leave…I picked a bad time it seems."

"Aye. My Grandnana says you are a free spirit. A leaf that will blow in the winds of Arda until you find what you have lost; she always speaks in riddles."

"A…a leaf?"

"…Aye."

Laitheryn could not explain why that comparison felt so right to him. Why he believed there was much truth in the words, and not just what lay on the surface; much of the meaning was buried beneath.

"Does that disturb you?" Elladan asked.

"Nay…Only that Lady Galadriel seems to know much more of my past than I. Enough so that those words make some sense to me now, but only slightly."

"It is her way."

Elladan seemed to hesitate there, as if wishing to say something further.

"What is it, Mellon Nin. Do not fear to share your thoughts with me."

"You…said something else before you awoke. You whispered something about spiders…and trembled as if in great pain and overcome with fear."

Laitheryn closed his eyes for a moment before opening them once more. He recalled what Elladan was questioning him about. He recalled the terror that coursed through the elfling he had been as he tried to escape the fell touch of the spider. For a moment he relived the panic of the chase through the thick forest. He would never forget the agony of the sting that had been inflicted upon his back, or the cold touch of the water that he had cast himself into moments after.

"It was a dream." Laitheryn stated slowly. 'I am sorry, Elladan.'

"I had read up on the perils that are beginning to assault Greenwood. The image of a spider must have placed itself in my mind from my studies. I know not where the river reference originated. I have not encountered the waters of any river for many a year." He continued after a moment.

This was not a good time for the truth to come out, Laitheryn decided. There were unfriendly ears about and it would not do any good for them to realize that an elf they had captured would hale no Elven realm as home. He was not sure why it was important to keep that knowledge away from the orcs that had captured them, other than a flicker of warning in his subconscious. For now the memory of the spiders and the river would stay a dream. But even to his ears it did not sound like truth. Elladan frowned as if sure that had not been the exact truth.

Laitheryn could sense his friends' intense gaze locking in on his own river blue eyes; searching his answer for what was true. Laitheryn gazed back calmly, and would not give any information away from his face or his eyes. He apologized to the young Lord once more in his mind.

Elladan blinked and nodded slowly, the frown growing deeper on his face.

The eyes seemed particularly interested in that explanation and their eyes seemed to become more intense as they listened to his words. He was sure they did not believe him either as the locked gazes became slightly disbelieving. 'I would tell you the truth, if I knew it.'

The eyes did not lose their intensity and Laitheryn found himself trying to ignore their quiet demands for the truth. He had been told that Woodelves could be quite stubborn at times, and he assumed that was where his own stubbornness originated from, as the struggle of wills continued. Shifting his gaze over Elladans' shoulder Laitheryn caught a flash of sun gold hair that just before it exited his sight.

He did not realize that he had lowered his head back to the ground where he rested until he felt the cold earths touch. Laitheryn was asleep soon after.


	10. Chapter 10

Note from Author: I am so sorry at the delay in posting this story. Many things ended up getting in the way, but the worst was this cold I picked up from work. I ended up having to take antibiotics just to clear it up; my doctor began to think it was going to turn worse instead of better. I just had no energy to do much, besides sleep. I will ensure that a delay like this does not occur again, if I can possibly help it. Thanks for your patience and your reviews Ida Cippo (many thanks), Lightmare852, Elflingimp, Elbendrache and Setrinan. Please continue to review and tell me what you think.

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"Wake up!" A deep and grizzly voice echoed above him. "Wake up, Maggot. I weary of lugging you around like a fresh kill!"

There was a silence for a moment as Laitheryn struggled to conscious, shaking off the darkness he had been dreaming of. His injuries made it nearly impossible though. And as he became more conscious of his surroundings, Laitheryn also became more aware of the pain too, and he almost wished he could escape to the darkness that held him before.

He shifted his gaze slightly from the ground he was forced to study, and up towards the faces of the elves standing near him. Many still had numerous injuries donning their bodies, their ripped and darkened clothes bespoke the blood that had fallen from them and bodies near theirs. They looked exhausted, and many of the ones that had suffered greater injury were leaning on those that were less struck with agony.

It was in that moment that he noticed something. There was a distance between the elves of the separate realms as if a wall had been placed between the two groups with none closing the gap. The ones wearing the forests' colour were walking a little apart from the others, keeping a physical distance to symbolize the one that had haunted both realms for many years.

They seemed to be surrounding one elf almost closing him in completely, enough so that even Laitheryn, with his elven vision, could not see past their obscuring bodies. The only reason he knew of the elf in the center, was for the few glances he had seen of him. Laitheryn found himself wondering why one elf in particular would be granted more protection than others in the same situation. But no answer would appear to his internal question.

There was great grief that separated the two realms and he feared that no calamity would bring the two realms to peace, with the past and the present once more. No situation would ever bring the two most separate elven realms together, not even the danger they were in now. 'If I am a Woodelf I will not distance myself from my friends at Imladris, no matter who asks it of me.'

There had been a few years where he had stayed with the twins in Imladris, and had learned many things from the elves that resided there. Lord Elrond had invited him to travel back with his sons, after one of their trips to the Dreamflower elven city. Ever curious about other realms, Laitheryn had accepted and had stayed there for four decades before returning to Lorien. He would not place those he had learned to cherish as brothers and sisters and some as mentors at a distance.

The Great War, so long ago now, had caused so much turmoil and grief for every elf that had been involved or had sent a loved one to serve the elven and human realms. Greenwood the Great had lost many elves, more so than the other realms combined. It had also been that one realm that had wished not to take place in the war and to uphold the peace of the forest. The King of Greenwood had been convinced to aid, by the then Lord of Imladris and many had died as a result.

One that had been lost that had been mourned by all was Oropher, their king; cut down in an attack that went so wrong that day. Cut down by orcish blades; he had died, without seeing the forest he and his kin had tried to protect. He died in the plains of death, now called the Dead Marshes, never to return to the place he loved most. The old king was gone to Mandros' halls, but would not be forgotten. And it was his death that sealed the almost tangible animosity between the elves of the valley realm and those that resided in the Great Forest.

It was with King Orophers' death that his only surviving son, Thranduil, took the throne and led his mourning people through the rest of the war and its dire results. The new king had then led the survivors back to the trees of their home; grieving for those that had been left behind and blaming the elves and humans of the realms that had beseeched them to join.

"AWAKE!" Laitheryn flinched slightly at the loud voice that echoed so close to him. It was a voice of malice and of ill intent.

Elladan caught his eye, and Laitheryn could see a concerned look behind their grey depths. Laitheryn nodded to him, trying to tell him without words that he was fine and would rather walk then be hauled like a kill over the shoulder of the orc that held him.

"Wake!" The orc above him spoke once more, and then struck him harshly when he did not respond to its demands.

"If you wants it to awaken, you should not hit it." Another reasoned. "That will only cause it to sleep once more and you'll be forced to carry it further."

Laitheryn frowned, struggling to listen to the harsh words and bring his dozing mind back to focus through the haze he felt. His world turned once more as Laitheryn found himself hefted off of the shoulder of the cruel orc that held him. His stomach turned at the sensation and he almost lost out to the nausea that gripped him when he was roughly pushed into the crowd of Imladris elves.

Before he could fall and injure himself further, Laitheryn was caught by one of the ready elves and lowered quickly to the ground. He blinked away the fog and was met by the concerned visage of Elladan.

"Peace, Mellon nin." Elladan advised. "Your injuries do not heal…"

"Aye."

"Was the blade poisoned? Another elf asked, having appeared to the left of the two.

"Nay." Elladan answered after a moment as if surprised by the question.

Laitheryn turned his attention to the elf that had asked; his deep brown red locks hanging in messy tangles down his shoulders onto the deep green cloak he wore over his shoulders. The elf's hair clung to his face, held there by the blood of those that had fallen.

His clothes were ripped and torn through the fell touch of knives and other dark weapons that had thirsted for his blood and had almost succeeded in their quest. Laitheryn tried to catch the elf's eye, but could not. It was as if the elf was avoiding looking at him and refused even a quick glance. Laitheryn felt his irritation rise further and battled it down.

"Their intent was to capture, not to kill. He will be fine."

"You stated that his injuries were healing far slower than what you wished."

"Aye, but they will heal."

"But not quickly."

Point and counter point, Laitheryn thought, watching a display of Woodelf stubbornness. 'Was I ever this difficult?'

"Aye…T'is true."

Laitheryn wondered when they would realize that he was awake and wished that they would stop discussing him as if he were not right there and able to hear.

"You will watch him. HE requests it." The young elf pressed.

There was no question there, just a demand. And it appeared that the young elf expected that whoever had issued this request would be obeyed, without question.

"Tell him I will continue to watch over him."

"I wish to know whom you are speaking of." Laitheryn interjected in a tone that stated quite plainly that he expected an answer too. He found himself missing a large section of this dialogue and did not wish to be left in the dark further than he had.

In response to his question the young elf risked a quick glance down at him and their eyes met. And in that second he saw flickers of emotions run through his age mates' eyes. There was pain, as if a past hurt had been recalled in that moment. Some remembered grief darkened the expression that could be read from the Woodelf's eyes; there was great sorrow, but also faint hope too.

There was also something Laitheryn longed to see, after coming into unintentional contact with the elves from Greenwood. In the eyes of this elf, Laitheryn saw recognition and watched as the cold edge in the elf's eyes died to something softer and gentler.

They had been friends long ago. This elf had been friends with the elfling he had left behind in that river so long ago, and had recognized him as that child. And Laitheryn recognized the eyes of the elf as one of the elflings that had been riding with him in the forest in his vision.

For the barest second Laitheryn could almost hear the sounds of the horses and of the forest around him. He could also hear the elfling's voice, like a breeze drifting across leaves, and both the elfling and the eyes of the older version of his friend, danced in his memory. He also recalled a name for that gentle brown haired elfling, who's older counterpart now studied him intently.

In that second the elf's eyes softened further and it seemed a name raced across their deep depths and his mouth parted as if to say what name had occurred to him, the wood elf seemed to catch himself and cut off the cry on his lips. But Laitheryn could still hear the name of the golden haired elfling in that steady gaze, and almost understood.

The elf blinked and seemed to tare his gaze off and forced it away from the quiet exchange they had just had and Laitheryn watched as the mask returned over his expression and the hope faded from the brown haired elf's eyes and could have wept. 'Who do I remind you of, Mellon Nin? We were friends once and you recognize me from that. Why do you not speak then? Why can you not say my name?'

"You will let no further harm come to him." The woodelf demanded of Elladan.

The young lord nodded and the Greenwood elf walked away, heading back in the direction he had arrived from. He was swallowed up by the group of elves, right into the center of their group. Laitheyn lost sight of him in the group as he reached the center and could not hear the words exchanged between the elf and the one that had sent him. Losing in that attempt to follow the Woodelf with his eyes, Laitheryn turned his attention back to Elladan instead to voice his next questions.

"Whom are they guarding?"

Elladan started at the quiet question, and brought his gaze back down to his. Laitheryn was shocked by the confusion that swirled in the calm grey depths.

"T'would be better if I do not speak his name here." Elladan whispered back. "There are unfriendly ears about, who certainly know of him and would recognize his name."

Laitheryn frowned at that answer and tried to determine more. "They guard someone important?"

"Aye."

"To them alone or to the survival of the Greenwood realm?"

"To both. The realm would suffer if he were discovered by the enemy of the free realms of Arda; it would surely topple as he has no heir to take his place. The elves of that realm would allow no other to lead them on."

Laitheryn inclined his head thoughtfully pondering on the near answers that Elladan had giving him in the forms of riddles. Someone who's life affected the survival of the forest realm alone and if discovered could crush the land of the Woodelves. There was only one that came to mind immediately; their King.

Thranduil had ridden among the patrols and had also been captured by the wiles of the Orc army. It was him that the Woodelves guarded so fervently. Laitheryn allowed his eyes to show Elladan that he understood the reason for secrecy and would not speak further. But he wondered what force had brought the King of the Great Forest from his palace under the trees and out into the open.

"Why is he here?" Laitheryn followed his last thought.

"There was a meeting to be convened between Imladris and Greenwood."

"Truly?" Laitheryn could not hide his surprise at that. "I had heard that the rift between the realms was so great that it was thought unattainable to try to heal that."

"Aye. Though I fear that will not occur now, as present circumstances may embitter the Woodelves once more..." Elladan trailed off and seemed to be studying him intently.

"That was no patrol they captured." Laitheryn continued, ignoring Elladan's gaze.

"Nay. An escort."

"Do the Orc's know whom they have captured?"

"Nay. It would be terrible for Greenwood if they did. And terrible for Imladris if they realized who I was."

"…Aye."

"That is why I have distanced myself from my father's name."

"I understand. I will speak no more of this."

There was a pause between the two and Elladan seemed to have decided to occupy himself by checking over the injuries he had sustained in the battle, Laitheryn did not argue and let himself be tended too. As long as the pain was not too great he could let his mind wander. And his thoughts turned once more to the deep brown eyes of the Woodelf that had fled back to the center of the circle to report to their king.

Laitheryn thoughts deepened there too. The one that he would still call friend had been sent there with a request from the king of Greenwood to oversee his safety. 'Why does my safety concern the king of the Forest Realm so much so that he sent someone to ensure that Elladan would not be remiss in his care for me? Was it the king that sent him? It easily could have been one of the warriors close to him. Perhaps they all have recognized me, and wish to question me later. It is possible that many elflings have been lost from that realm with the dangers that have assailed it as of late. And all have recognized me as one of those elflings thought lost.'

He found that this thinking was increasing the steady pounding in his head and Laitheryns' stomach seemed to agree; beginning to match the drumming pace behind his temples with one of its own. He found himself closing his eyes to rid himself of the pain that speared up suddenly.

"Rest's over, Maggots. On your feet!" An orc snarled out.

There was no pause as Laitheryn found his arm gripped by the large hand of the orc that spoke and he was hauled out of Elladan's arms and forced to his feet. He would have fallen back to the welcoming soil for the pain he was in, which now included the agony that had exploded from his arm as the orc pulled. He had nearly forgotten that that arm had been cut deeply once by the blade of an orcish sword and many times more by tiny pricks of a practiced assault. That hurt had faded quickly in his mind, but it was now returning.

The orc released him, and Laitheryn found that a gentle arm had circled around his waist and kept him from the ground. Laitheryn raised his gaze from the soils of Arda and gave an appreciative smile to the elf that had caught him, speaking his thanks without words.

The elf's silver eyes met his and they spoke of concern for all the elves around him. He wore a plain, deep blue tunic that did not designate a rank any different than the ones that he led. His eyes spoke of the anger that they all had that their brethren had been so injured by the likes of those that now held their lives in the palm of their dark hands. His gaze also included sorrow, that the orc's that had detained them had once been elves and had been darkened, by cruel hands long ago. Laitheryn could pick up the whisper of fear that they would share the fate of their tortured brethren too.

Another elf had helped Elladan up, and had began to follow the relentless paces that the orc's had set moments prior. Laitheryn risked a glance backwards and watched as Elladan seemed to have recovered enough that he walked on his own and bade the elf that assisted him to help with the more injured.

Assured that his friend was uninjured, Laitheryn turned back and caught the speculative gaze of the elder elf that supported his weight. There was great darkness to the elf's gaze, as if he were lost in his thoughts and could not find a way out.

"I do not burden you overmuch?" Laitheryn found himself saying, trying to start a conversation and break the patrol leaders' thoughts.

"Nay, Penneth. Be not concerned." He responded shortly.

Laitheryn watched as the silver eyes darkened further, as whatever the elf dwelled on caused greater harm. The silver eyed elf was surrendering to the grief and the fear of the situation and could not be rid of their evil touch. Laitheryn tried to reassure him with his eyes, but knew it had failed to falter the pain that the elf found himself in. 'For this elf to lose hope and perish, would be a harsh blow to the younger elves of Imladris…'

"You see much, Penneth." The elder spoke, softly. "More than the others. I fear for us all."

"Fear is wise, Dinenant, in such evil times. But being lost amid fear when there is still hope; is folly."

"What hope is there, Laitheryn? I see none." His soft tone left his voice and a harder one emerged.

"You do not look far enough then. The peoples of Imladris and Eryn Galen will not allow this to be your fate. They will not allow any elf to suffer thus."

"Imladris and Eryn Galen are far away."

"Aye, but not that far that hope cannot come."

"They will not know where to look. And Eryn Galen does not know that there is a need to look. Greenwood is our best chance of survival and they do not realize that we are in need of assistance! They do not realize that their own Ki…"

Laitheryn cut him off before more could be said, sensing where that cry was headed and knowing it would doom one of the three elven realms if he allowed it on.

"Peace, Mellon nin. They have realized that their kin are in need of assistance." Laitheryn continued, easily covering up the near dire mistake with a word that would still make sense in the context that it had been driven too. 'King with kin.'

It was not hard to guess that more than the elves from Imladris were witness to this dialogue and the elves of Greenwood were listening too. Laitheryn would not let the panic of one destroy the small chance the two realms had of reconciliation. He would not let the Patrol leaders' panic rob a realm of its leader. He would ensure the secret was kept safe, for elvish ears may not be all that were listening to this dialogue. With that in mind he lowered his voice further, masking it in with the footfalls of the orcs.

"Before I was discovered by the Orc's I sent a plea for assistance through the trees to the populous of Greenwood." Laitheryn continued. "They will come; the trees will lead them to us."

"…Do you trust that message will be delivered?" There was much doubt in the elders' voice.

"Have hope, Dinenant. I trust the message has been given and aid has been sent to all of those that are captured, and not just their kin."

"I do not know if I can hold hope like that, and trust so easily."

"The trees have never failed me, when I have needed them." Laitheryn started. '…but I have failed them.'

Deliberately breaking from that thought Laitheryn continued on. "And no elf wishes this fate on another, even if the realm they descend from cannot be at peace with the other. Help will come, have hope."

"I cannot."

"You cannot, or will not?"

"I have been witness to the cruelty of Orc's before, Penneth. You do not know what you should fear."

"…If you cannot have hope for yourself, than at least pretend that you do for others. Do not make this worse for those that look to you as their leader. If the youngers' in your patrol realize that you have lost hope and have lost the will to fight their oppression; then they will lose hope too. If I cannot give you hope with my words alone; then at least allow for those that you say you lead to have less fear than before. You owe that to them as their patrol leader. Do not fail them."

Dinenant drifted into silence and Laitheryn hoped that the leader of the Elf Patrol would heed his advice and have hope, or at least listen enough so that the fears of the younger elves would not be made that much worse. Laitheryn stayed quiet too, waiting for some clue to what the elder was thinking. Suddenly the elf that was supporting him smiled softly and his gaze softened, his dark eyes becoming gentler as the seconds passed.

"Aye. I have been told that I lose hope too quickly. And you have reminded me that it is not for I alone that I must hold hope for. I was remiss in my duties as their leader and needed to be told that. Ai, I have never been told off by an Elfling before!"

"I am not an Elfling…" Laitheryn knew that the silver eyed general was teasing him, but could not resist the common retort.

It brought a second smile from Dinenant and he matched it with one of his own.

"My words were not too harsh then?" Laitheryn asked.

"Nay. You said what I needed to hear, and did so in a way that I would listen and would obey." Dinenant trailed off here and chuckled softly. "You would make a wonderful leader, Laitheryn. For many, even those that do not wish to hear, will heed your voice and your reason. You have a great gift, and any realm that you would lead in, even if it were just a patrol, would be greatly enhanced; even if you ARE just an elfling."

Laitheryn frowned and directed it towards the general that supported him, not pleased at the gentle teasing he was enduring.

"I speak partially in truth though." The elder continued suddenly. "With the possible exception of that Greenwood elf that approached you earlier, I would say you are the youngest of the entire party. He did not even give us his name…"

"His name is Taurnun and he is a few years older than I." Laitheryn answered automatically.

Dinenant studied him intently for a moment. "It is true what they say of you, then. You do hale from Greenwood…"

"They say that of me?" Laitheryn questioned in interest.

To his surprise it was Elladan that answered. "When you were unconscious one of the elves from Greenwood approached you and seemed to study you intently for several minutes. He then returned to his group and there seemed to be a discussion occurring where the one that observed you claimed you were descended from Greenwood."

"Did they speak of my name?"

"The name you were given by my Daernana is not known to them and I have not heard if they would address you with a different one. I am sorry." The Elf lord continued gently.

"Nay. Do not apologize." Laitheryn started before breaking into the thought that had haunted him for several hours. "If they recognize me, why do they not speak of it?"

"I believe it is who they recognize you to be." Dinenant answered his question. "Think of it this way, Laitheryn. An elfling they had thought of as lost, one that has been grieved for a millennia ago, suddenly appears once more, not as an elfling but as a youth instead. If I were in their position I would be confused by this, and would question whether it was merely a coincidence or a cruel joke."

"I cannot prove that I am descended from an elf in Greenwood. I do not even have a name to lay claim too…"

"You will. You have given me hope with your words alone. And have made me remember that allowing fear to rule you, courts ruin. I would give your faith with mine." The silver eyed general broke in calmly. "I have faith in you."

"For all the times we spent in each others company in Imladris, Mellon nin. I have learned one thing about you. That you will not surrender when there is still hope. Have faith that this will end, and you will have your answers. You will have your name and the family you have lost. Have faith in yourself and the Valar." Elladan answered. "Have faith that this evil will end, and you will have what you seek."

And the march continued on.

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Daernana – "Grandma."

Dinenant – "Silent Gift."

Taurnun – "Great Forest Born."

Another gap in the story has occurred, where I mentioned that Laitheryn had spent four decades in Imladris. This will be covered eventually, in other stories not in this arch though. As I see it, to get the full story about Laitheryn I had to use many elves. And to escape the confusion of switching constantly between their points of view, when so much had happened around them as individuals as well as in a group, I decided that each of the four elves would have their own story in this arch.

The separate stories I speak of, will be from this series of the years I have not covered or have mentioned and glossed over. For example, it will be stories from Laitheryns' stay in the village of the humans, of his stay in Lorien and Imladris. Also there will be stories of what occurred after he returned to Greenwood.

I will not be only using his point of view for those stories. There will be some where he is mentioned only or plays a minor role, but will not be the main character. I suppose the saying is true. We are our own main characters in the play of our own lives…It's interesting to write a story that holds that to be true.


	11. Chapter 11

Just a quick note. I would like to thank the people that are reading this story. A special thanks to Ida Cippo for the reviews. I really enjoy hearing your opinion about this story. Please continue to review. I also don't mind new reviewers...looks hopeful.

This chapter will be dark...with lots of Elf torture... (just a warning.)

Edited chapter to unglue the words...

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The orcs called a stop, just after the sun began to fall from the sky. They had been walking since the early morning, and it seemed that the Orcs wished a break.

Several stared with shallow eyes into the brilliant orb of the setting sun and growled menacingly, as it continued to fall.The rest adverted their gazes entirely, as if subtlety reminded of the time when they too enjoyed such beauties; when they had been elves.

When around the twisted creatures (the Sons of Mordor), it was hard to remember that they had been elves. They had lost their light, and their way, under torture and other abuses, and had thus become servants of the enemy. Laitheryn knew that horrible truth, like the rest of the elves he was with. The three separate elven nations had fought against the orcs for countless years, but that truth was never lost.

Laitheryn watched as the golden reds, turned to deep purples and deeper blues. He watched for the beauty, and tried not to admit to himself that this could easily be the last sunset he saw. The Greenwood forces that he had called forth may be too far behind to assist them. They could fail, and their nation would crumble as a result.

"Are ye scared, elf?" A rusty voice echoed near him.

Laitheryn turned to face the orc that had spoken to him.

"Answer me, Maggot! Ar'ya scared of the burning light!" The dark orc growled out the last two words. "Does its sight fill ye with fear?"

Laitheryn sensed Dinenant drifting closer to him; and he was thankful for the silent support the patrol leader gave.

This orc seemed to be one of the smaller ones, as if the elf it had been had not been fully grown when the torture had begun. And whatever height the young elf had reached, and been further stunted by the pains he or she had suffered at the hands of their abusers.

It wore a strip of leather, covering its lower quarters, and that scarce armour stretched upwards. From the creatures waist, ripped sections of the thick material traveled up its frame. From what Laitheryn could see of the orc it was likely that the dark leather was knotted behind the creatures' neck.

The orc wore long gloves, darkened by the blood that had fallen on them. Laitheryn tried to ignore the fact that the colouring of the gloves got lighter as they reached away from the orcs' hands, where the blood had not fallen so easily.

The smaller orc wore dark boots, and at there tip of each foot, was pieces of twisted metal that matched the bolts that ran upwards towards the creatures knee. Laitheryn mused that the only reason this orc had been allowed to keep its winnings was that the rest probably would not be able to fit into what armour this one could.

Continuing with his examination, Laitheryn found his gaze lingering on the face of the orc. Its nose was completely twisted, and then squashed to its face. As if it had been broken once and once more asit had healed. Its eyes were dark, pitch coloured orbs that showed no mercy or love for anything surrounding it. The young elf this orc had been had everything comfort stripped from them. They had been left in the darkness,and gradually became hardened to it. They had lost the ability to love as their souls dimmed.

Was this fate, the one this twisted orc had, be his fate too? 'No! I will not think that! I cannot lose hope…'

"Answer me! Does the fires of the sun scare ye, Elf!"

"Nay, it is not the fire of the sun that I would claim fear of." Laitheryn answered. "Another cold flame is responsible for that."

The orc snarled, as if it had not liked his answer. "You will learn to fear the sun, Elf. You will learn to fear its fires."

"I will not fear the suns' light for as long as I breathe free air."

This earned him another howl from the outraged orc, and it slowly approached him. Laitheryn stayed his ground, knowing that if he backed down to this orc; then the other creatures that were watching this confrontation would choose him as an easy target.

Laitheryn assumed that when this conversation had started,that the small orc questioning him had been ordered to it by thier superiors. They were looking for the easiest victims, the ones that would not take much time and force to turn to their kin. They wished an easy target for their rages to begin, and Laitheryn was determined that he would not be that target.

He also knew that, despite whatever answers he gave to the orc, this would be the end result. He would not speak a lie, just to please someone stronger than him. He could have lied and said he, too, feared the sun; and the result would have been the same.

Laitheryn waved Dinenant and Elladan away from him, secure with the knowledge that if they assisted, they would too be beaten. Both were held back by others of their nation, and Laitheryn risked a glance at the two.

Dinenants' silver eyes were filled with remembered pain and sympathy, remembered pain for his past and sympathy for what was about to occur. Elladan struggled in the hands of the elves that held him, and Laitheryn turned his attention onto him. Elladan caught his silent glare and fell still, a hopeless expression beginning to settle on his face.

Turning his gaze back to the young orc, Laitheryn just had enough time to duck the swing to his head. He was sure that his resistance would have repercussions, but another blow to that region was not what he desired.

The small orc hissed in anger and lunged for him; Laitheryn stayed the charge and allowed the orc to pounce. If he dodged another attack, like he had the first, the surrounding orc army would involve themselves in their dispute. And this act would lead to the deaths of the elves around him, as all were bound and most were too weak to fight back.

A moment later the orc crashed into him, sending them both sprawling; both impacts temporarily stunned him. From the surprised look on the orcs' face, and the one that danced across its eyes, Laitheryn realized that the orc assumed he would dodge too and it had been unprepared for the fall.

The blonde elf struggled to get air into his shocked lungs as the creature recovered from its landing on top of him. As he struggled to breathe, from the fall and the weight of the orc; Laitheryn saw a triumphant look follow the shock that had donned the monsters' expression.

There seemed no pause between him noting the change in the orcs expression, seconds later the orc had flipped him. Laitheryns' vision darkened at the quick movement and for a second it seemed as if the ground were shaking to the rhythm that pounded in his head. He struggled to breathe through this eerie sensation and as the dizziness faded Laitheryn heard something whistling through the air, descending rapidly towards him.

The first blow struck his turned back, and forced his recovering lungs to quit once more, as he unintentionally gasped at the blow and the blast of pain that followed.

He could sense the orcs amusement as it raised the whip over its head once more. It laughed at the pain he was in, and found pleasure in being the one that caused it. It enjoyed the fact that the first blow had caught him by surprise. And now, by his unintentional and uncontrollable act, the other orcs may see him as the target they had wished to find.

Laitheryn could sense their leering grins from where he lay. For whatever else occurred as the orc continued to torture him, Laitheryn would have to ensure that no noise crossed his lips.

There was that whisper in the wind once more, and the whip struck his back where it had landed first. Laitheryn could feel the welts of his skin beginning to rise in answer to the strike and could feel the agony of pain wash over him.

The whip fell once more, landing across his shoulder blade, cutting a rough 'T' shape into his skin. The orc, behind him, laughed openly at the blow, and Laitheryn could sense the whip raise once more. Another flicker of pain erupted from his back, as the creature followed through with the attack. This blow landed, and Laitheryn could feel the fallout from the blowgraze his cheek as it fell.

Several more blows followed this one, cutting below the original tee that the orc had created on his skin. He bit the inside of his lip, and kept his head on the ground, drawing upon the sensation of the earth to cool the burning heat on his back.

The elf could feel the blood dripping from his back whenever the orc struck him. As his blood mingled into the wounds and touched the burning heat of the welts on his back, it did nothing to ebb the pain, rather it created its own in its wake.

The creature allowed the torture device to fall once more, and Laitheryn swallowed his pain filled cry. This blow landed on welts already well formed, and several broke under the pressure of the attack. He stayed quiet for several reasons, first because if he made anynoise it would only serve to gratify the monsters around him, and second the elves may try to fight back if he admitted how painful this was. And they were in no condition to fight.

The orc continued to beat him, faster now, as if hoping that that if the strikes came sooner and with more force, that he would cry out. He did not count the number of times that the whip landed, he would not count that. Laitheryn closed his eyes, and tried to close his mind off to the pain.

He could hear the wind move as the orc allowed the whip to fall once more, and he tasted the pain of its recourse.Once again Laitheryn found himself biting the inside of his lip to avoid the cry that wished to come. The orcs hoots and howls of pleasure, turned angered as he did not respond as they wished him too. The orc holding the whip growled back at its party surrounding them.

"Cry, Elf. And it will end." It promised.

"Nay." Laitheryn responded, moving his head off the ground, so that the entire party of orcs…and elves…could hear his response. "I will not cry for your pleasure, and that of your kin." His voice sounded so strong and Laitheryn wondered where he found that strength to answer.

The orc howled in anger and the whip fell more furiously than it had before. Laitheryn did not react to the change, merely laid his head back on the grounds of Arda and tried to pretend as if this was not occurring.

Without warning the furious beating slowed, and then stopped. He tensed in preparation for another strike, but it did not come. Laitheryn took the pause to continue to recover his composure and regain fragile control of his senses.

"Cry, Elf. And there will be no more pain." The orc spoke once more.

"I will not!"

"You fear the pain, so cry and it will end."

Laitheryn did not answer further, merely allowed his silence to state what he could not. As the orc expressed its rage, the blonde elf found himself wondering if this is how the young orc had been broken. Was this the method that the cruel one had used on the small elf, that became the smaller orc? Was this a method that the orc knew would work, from experiencing the pain itself?

"You will cry."

"Never." Laitheryn promised. "I will never cry."

The whip whistled through the air once more, and Laitheryn realized as it landed that the sound this was different from what he had become used too. At some point the orc had switched weapons, and had decided to continue the assault with this one instead.

The fresh welts exploded, sending flickers of fluid over his back as this new device hit him once more. It was with this hit that Laitheryn realized that the welts were not exploding from the force of the attack, or the ferocity that the new whip met his back.Thedevicewas embedded with small spears of sharp metal. Too dull to cut in too deeply to do serious injury, but sharp enough that wherever the lash fell, it sparked new agony.

This whip was designed to aggravate past injuries, as well as cause new ones; and the orc holding it knew enough to swing for the red swellings it had already caused before. As it fell, Laitheryn tensed, fearing the blow that would come.

Moving his desperate gaze off the ground where he lay, Laitheryn saught out the comforting gaze of the young elf lord and the patrol leader, he saught comfort from the gazes of his friends. Both looked horrorified at what was occurring before them. Elladan seemed frozen in shock, and Laitheryn caught his grieved eye and tried to send a message through. 'I knew this could occur, as the youngest of the combined party.' Laitheryn tried to make his eyes speak. 'I knew I was most at threat, because of my age. I am happy that it is not you they torture.'

Elladans' eyes grew more hopeless as Laitheryn felt the whip fall once more, sending new agonies sprawling up his back. If he did cry out to end the pain, the elves of Imladris would not fault him for it; for now it was only his sheer stubbornness that kept the cry from his lips.

As the lash swung through the air once more, something drove his attention to the Greenwood elves. There seemed to be a slight scuffle that had broken out in the center of the group. It seemed to Laitheryn that one near the center had seen enough of this torture and had made a move to end it. Thankfully that attempt had been stopped by the surrounding elves, before more harm would befall. The orcs, so focused on him, did not seem to note the fight that had broken out amid one section of their captives.

"Cry, Elf!"

Laitheryn almost wished he could, but he had neither the strength nor the will to respond. As the whip fell over and over, the blonde elf could feel his resolve slipping to the pain and knew the cry would pass his lips, despite his struggles to impede it.

The torture continued and Laitheryn found his gaze riveted upon the elves from Greenwood.He caught the forest green eyes of one elf, and held that steady gaze. There was something so familiar about the eyes that watched him, something that soothed the pain he felt; and his world seemed to reel the longer the connection held.

In the eyes of the elf, that Laitheryn chose to watch, he could almost hear the whisper of the forest; he could almost hear the sounds of leaves in the soft breezes. He could almost hear the rain falling onto the sheltering branches of Greenwood forest, and could almost see the rainbow that formed high over the trees as the sun returned to dominance.

The orc spoke once again, demanding him to submit. But Laitheryn found strength in the elfs' gaze and did not give in. He stayed quiet and waited for the next blow to fall.

His expectation was met and fresh pain grew from the blow that had followed. It now seemed reduced as he struggled to place the eyes that held his. The answer would appear, but quickly vanish as his attention was constantly forced from the familiar eyes to the blows that landed on his back.

CRY!"

"….No…" it was a whisper, but still held enough power to carry to the orcs damaged ears. "I will not."

"Then you will die!"

"That is enough!" The tallest and broadest Orc strode forward.

The smaller one turned and seemed to duck lower, as this one approached. It was a submissive action, one filled with great fear.

The bigger orc ripped the whip from the smallers hands. The young orc whimpered as a piece of the metal embedded in his hands, as the weapon was pulled.

"Gives me another chance! I almost had him!"

"More blows will not break this one, merely send him to his death."

"I…."

"You will not speak, Maggot!"

This was followed up by the larger creature sending the whip crashing down onto the face of the smaller. The orc screamed in pain, as blood erupted from its broken eye and coursed down its already marred features. As the small one screamed, the orcs surrounding them seemed to enjoy its suffering. They drew closer to the confrontation.

'_You must move…' _A familiar voice whispered in his mind.

It was the voice that had bid him to run just before he had met the orc army, just before he had been captured. Laitheryn realized that he felt no surpriseas the knowledge reached his dazed mind, that the owner of the melodious voice was the same elf that had captured his gaze during the lashing he had suffered. He also wondered how, exactly, he knew that the soft voice belonged to the same elf.

'_It is not safe where you lie. You must move.' _

Their minds met and Laitheryn sensed the overwhelming concern this elf had for him, and its anger towards the orcs that had caused it.

_'I sent the message…' _Laitheryn tried, unsure if the strange communication would work.

'……_I know…Do not tarry! The orcs will attack soon.'_

It was with that statement that the elder elf broke the contact. As their minds fled one another, Laitheryn was shocked to feel pressing grief erupt from the mind of the green eyed elf. As if he had recalled some past pain to the forefront of his elders mind, with just the contact alone. Laitheryn was sure that the elf would not reach for him again, nor let their eyes meet once more.

He took a breath, half to summon what residual strength he had and to refocus his thoughts on what action he had to carry out. After a moment of waiting for the pain to fade from his initial movement, he then forced himself to begin to move away from the circle that was beginning to surround the small orc. Each of his movements were slow and careful, and each woke more pain from his back. To his relief the orcs allowed him to pass, some sneering down at him as he crawled. Their attention seemed riveted upon the fight occurring near them.

Laitheryn knew that the orcs of the party would soon turn against the smallest one, and would swarm in to kill it…or eat it. The orcs' orders had been to break him, andit had failed; the smallest orc had failed his test. To fail as an orc, seemed to merit death. Laitheryn instinctively knew he did not wish to be in the circle when the pressure finally broke the fragile hold the leader had over the group. The elder elf had not needed to inform him of that.

Elladan broke from both his shock and the hands that held him, and moved as well as he could in his direction. The orcs let him pass too, now focused on what was occurring in the circle. Elladan reached him and helped him the rest of the way. Dinenant appeared to his left and both half carried him out of the path of danger and directly into the center of the Imladris elves. The elves of Imladris allowed them to pass, before falling in and completing a circle around them, effectively blocking the three from the fallout of the fight beginning to break.

"You will not kills him! You have failed in your orders to break him!"

"Gives me a chance! I will break him!"

"You would kill him first!"

"No!"

The bigger orc lashed out and caught the smaller in the face once more.With a howl that sounded more animal than sentinent the little orc surrendered and fell back onto the ground. As it landed, the orc army swarmed, and Laitheryn kept his gaze firmly locked on the ground ahead of him, not wishing to see the end results of the slaughter.

He could hear growls and screams of pain erupting from the small orc and others that fell to the wayside. Laitheryn could hear the clashes of metal upon metal, and the sickening stench of flesh rift of bodies when the orcs did not defend themselves from their kins' attack. He could hear the screams of those that had been cut, drifting through the air. And the sounds of bone being broken, from living victims; the animals' screams of one being eaten alive.

Elladan drove his attention back and away from the fight, as he started to treat the injuries that the small orc had given him. Laitheryn found himself wincing as the cool water came in contact with his burning skin and started to flush out the wounds. He was sure that Elladan was unaware of what he was doing, merely acting on the instincts and the training that Lord Elrond had passed down to him. As Elladan worked to clean the injuries as well as he could, Laitheryn could hear a faint hum coming from the elf lords' lips.

The elves around him picked up the melody Elladan whispered, and started singing softly to themselves and those around them. The humming melody was an attempt to tune out what was occurring just meters from their location. The elves did not wish to hear the dying screams of those being eaten alive and turned to the only thing that could come between those sounds, song. It was small comfort where none existed.

Soon the gentle tones traveled from the Imladris elves as the Greenwood elves drifted into soft song too, following the melody created by their kin with their own voices. And as they sang, Laitheryn found himself drifting to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Back again with another installment of Spirit.

I'd like to thank those that are reading this story,I hope you continue to enjoy it. Special thanks to Ida Cippo for the review and the hint about the glued words.

* * *

The march dragged on, through the shadows of the night and even into the next day. Laitheryn found his heart beginning to match the relentless pounding of feet upon the earth; the soft footsteps of the elves surrounding him, completely hidden by those of the orcs that guarded them.

Dinenant and he continued to walk together, Laitheryn relying on the mostly uninjured elder elf to support his weight. For the silver eyed elf's part he seemed incredibly wary of the injuries he had suffered. His supporting arm, never brushed his mid to upper back once, where the majority of the blows had fallen.

Laitheryn had his injuries treated by Elladan, while the battle between the orcs spewed onwards. In this battle at least a score of orcs had lost their lives to their kin, but there were still numerous in number, with more than enough to guard their captives. As Laitheryn listened, he half hoped that the entire orc army would decimate itself that night, and the elves could just walk free. But even as that thought had occurred to him, in the realm drifting between sleep and wakefulness, he knew it was a vain hope. Under the pain of the recent torture and the soothing touches and song of the Elf Lord, Laitheryn had drifted off.

He had been woken several hours after the sun had set; and just after the orcs had finished their feast of their fallen brethren. Laitheryn was grateful that Elladan and Dinenant had allowed him to rest through that, not only to heal his injuries, but so those images would not be recorded onto his memory. Dinenant had helped him to his feet, as the call for the march to begin rang in their ears. He and Laitheryn had walked, both trying to ignore the blood smeared lips and teeth of those that now walked around them. He tried to desperately ignore the stench of death, as it echoed through the air and assaulted his nose; Laitheryn felt his stomach turn and fought desperately to keep it under control.

As the sun had climbed higher in the sky, Laitheryn found it easier to continue on his own and eventually wormed free of the patrol leaders grip. Dinenant shot him a concerned glance and Laitheryn smiled back. He knew his smile was tinged with pain, but it seemed to relieve the silver eyed elf that he was alright and was feeling strong enough to walk alone.

Despite Laitheryns' assurances, Dinenant stayed at his side and continued to walk with him. Laitheryn was glad of the company the elder elf provided, for keeping the pain from the forefront of his mind as well as the silent support Dinenant gave. Yet he could not help but wonder why the Elf continued on with him.

"Should you not consider the wellbeing of the members of your patrol?" Laitheryn asked. "They will have need of you."

"Their eyes are upon us, Laitheryn. My patrol has been watching our every step. They look to you for strength and hope."

"They do?"

"Aye. You have given them hope to carry on, despite the burdens we carry. By you walking alone, you have given them hope that this will end. You are most brave."

"I am still under the impression that your patrol would need your presence more than I."

"We walk amid my patrol; they surround us in every direction. We are not far from them, and you are in need of assistance. My patrol now protects us from the vision of the orcs."

"Do you only walk with me because you feel you must?"

"Nay. I walk with you because you are my friend, Penneth. I walk with you because you are my lords' friend, and he would have it of me."

"Elladan asked you to walk with me?"

"Aye; he is most concerned for your safety, as am I."

"And who gave the order to Elladan to have me watched."

"His is a name I cannot speak."

There was the proof that Laitheryn sought. Before this conversation Laitheryn could not be sure if the order had come from the one that the entire Greenwood escort protected, or from one of its members. Yet the order had come from the king of that nation, from Thranduil himself. 'Why would the Elvenking be concerned for my safety?'

"Why does he take such concern over my wellbeing?" Laitheryn asked, lowering his voice so that the elves around him would not hear their words.

"I do not know the answer to that."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

"Nay. I do not. None from our realm would give the same description of him, if you were to ask. Our information is old, and passed from different ears. I would not trust it to be accurate."

"And what description would you give him?"

"There is one description that I hear repeated the most, amid the other rumours of his appearance. It is said that his hair is as dark as the sky on a moonless night. As I have heard his eyes are steel grey and look like stars fallen from the heavens."

"Do you trust that description?"

"As far as a rumour could be trusted, Laitheryn. I am sorry, for there seem to be many answers to the question of what he looks like. Mine is, most likely just a rumour."

"I understand. I thank you for the information."

"I am pleased to share it." Dinenant paused as if considering something. "It may be that he wishes to question you on how you survived."

"That is possible." Laitheryn answered, 'And that is the obvious answer. I am a Woodelf that was thought dead, but survived. It is practically his duty as my king to find out what occurred and how I escaped. Perhaps he hopes that others have escaped death too….I am not sure he would like to hear that I threw myself into the rapids to escape the spiders… But the only way he could have his questions answered is if we survive this.'

All of their lives rested on the speed of the forces that Greenwood had sent out and of the secrecy of their approach. If the orcs learned of their pursuit they may kill off their hostages and flee. Or their speed would increase if they learned of the pursuit that had been called from Greenwood.

It was that thought that drove him on, and gave him the will to continue placing one foot in front of the other. They would be freed soon. For the speed that the orcs and their captives could walk was far slower than what horses could travel, when the need was dire. But for the sake of all the captives, Laitheryn hoped that help would arrive soon.

As they got further from the lowest sections of Greenwood, Laitheryn had noticed that their direction shifted more eastwards. The more they continued in that direction, the more he began to fear. The sparse systems of trees were dying, and slowly the land died of most plants and animals. There was no real divide between the uninhabited desert of the east, just a dying that occurred as it approached.

Their destination lay somewhere in the vast waste, where it would be impossible to trace their location. The shifting sands would hide their trail and sounds would be muffled. It would also be too humid for the horses to travel in too and they would have to be left behind.

The orcs seemed to know this fact and their jeers and leering increased as the sands came steadily closer. It was on the edges that a rest was finally called.

"Water the capt'ves…No need for thems to be fainting now, boys." One of the larger orcs spoke.

There was a mumble of protest amid the orcs as their precious water was passed around. The first elf that was near him enough for Laitheryn to observe, raised the water to his lips, but did not swallow. Passing it forward Laitheryn followed his lead and did not drink either. He would not have put it past some of the orcs to have slipped a poison into the water.

Due to his wounds, Laitheryn felt ill enough; and he had no wish to be poisoned on top of that. He knew the wounds were beginning to become infected, as they were not tended for several days. Laitheryn could feel the beginnings of a fever setting in, but would not complain.

As he passed the water off, after pretending to drink, he sensed the eyes of the Greenwood elves on him once more. Turning swiftly on them, he caught some of the eyes in his vision before they could avert their gazes. Keeping his vision locked on them, Laitheryn silently challenged them to speak, with his eyes alone. At the challenge, those that had kept their eyes on him, dropped their gazes and moved their attentions off of him. A moment later Laitheryn turned his attention to Elladan, and knew that their gazes returned.

"I wish they would stop that." He whispered.

"It is a trifle disconcerting." Elladan agreed. "Even as I am not the one they are studying."

They kept their talk light, as both knew that soon the rest would end and soon they would be forced to continue onwards into the looming desert. Night was falling, the sun just beginning to set. Laitheryn was sure the orcs would move again, once the sun was completely hidden and the desert cooled. Once they entered they would be lost. As he stared into the shifting sands, Laitheryn began feel his hope die. And there next to him, Elladan struggled to keep one younger than he from weeping at the sight of the desert.

"Have hope, Mellon nin." Laitheryn soothed, trying not to let the tone of his voice indicate that he too was having trouble controlling his emotions.

"Those that follow have not given up on us; do not give up on them."

"It is an impossible hope! We are doomed. Alas!" Almir wept, finally. "There will be no peace…only pain! I will share the fate that others in my family have suffered! I will lose my Ada and Nana! And my brothers and sister! I cannot stand it. I cannot stand to lose them!"

"They have not lost hope yet." Elladan whispered.

"I have, Elladan. I cannot continue to carry hope! Arda has darkened, and hope is lost."

Unbidden, words that Mithrandir spoke long ago to him, began to echo in Laitheryns' mind. They were words given to him when he spoke of the darkness that seemed to infect everything. "There are other forces at work in Arda, not just the ones of darkness."

"It seems that all is dark."

"Aye, it does. But look at it from this light. If I had not left Lorien the day I had, I would not have been in the correct location in intercept the Orc army." Laitheryn began, forcing his mind away from the pain filled screams of the tree as it died. "I would have been too late, and our paths would not have crossed."

"What point do you make?" Almir asked, his tone becoming more curious and less panicked.

"If I had not been where I was, at that exact moment. I would not have been able to send a message through the trees, to Greenwood, speaking of what had befallen. Thus, I was meant to be where I was, and I was meant to be captured by the orcs, and so were you. We were meant to find each other here. And that is a very comforting thought." Laitheryn finished, with the same words Mithrandir spoke to him.

"…I can see the logic in your words. But I fear the desert."

"I fear it too." Laitheryn admitted. "I fear its deadness…I can sense nothing living and the voices of nature are dulled. I fear to tread one step into the sands."

"You are so wise for your age, Laitheryn." Dinenant broke in, proving that he had been listening to the dialogue. "And as his words were true for me; I fear I must speak them to you, Almir. Do not let your fear rule you. I believe in what Laitheryn speaks of. The Valars' works are mysterious and we are not meant to understand their designs. Hope still exists."

"Do you believe you will see your family again?" Almir asked.

Laitheryn flinched, despite knowing that the question had not been directed towards him. He noted that Elladan's gaze landed directly on him as the question was asked.

"Ai, forgive my words! I did not mean them as they were spoken, Laitheryn. I pray you forgive what I said."

"I do not fault you for what you said, Mellon nin." Laitheryn began. "I believe that you will see your family once more, as well as Dinenant and Elladan. And yes, I believe I will see my family too."

"So you three carry hope?"

"The orcs wish us to lose hope and faith." Laitheryn started. "I will not let them break me so easily."

"Nor I." Dinenant spoke. "To lose faith is to give them what they wish."

As the elder elf had been speaking Laitheryn had turned his attention away from the two. Something was tugging on his mind; a tiny voice, begging to be heard; but too far away to be completely clear.

He turned his attention completely onto it, tuning out the distractions around him. And for a moment he sensed the life of the land, the one he thought of as dead. It was their soft voices that whispered to him now. Not the sound he was used too, instead of the sound of soft leaves blowing in the wind he heard the whispers as sand glistening in the noon day sun. Life existed in the desert, different than what he had encountered; but still beautiful. It was not the barren waste he feared.

'_What?' _Laitheryn prodded gently. _'What troubles you, Mellon nin?'_

'_Great evil approaches. Great evil lies near. Beware!'_

'_Do you speak of the sons of Mordor?'_

'_Nay.' _One answered.

'_Other evil. Ones that are second born.' _A second voice cut in.

'_Beware them…" _The first spoke once more.

That was the last thing he heard before his hearing picked up a soft noise. Laitheryn frowned listening to the noise repeat itself from the surround. He was sure that many ears missed it, the only reason he noted it was because his attention was riveted away from the conversation occurring around him.

Glancing over the party of elves he traveled with he realized that none seemed to have heard the soft noise, and were instead engaged in private thoughts of conversations.

A short distance away, the majority of the Woodelves stood on guard, as if their ears had picked up the quiet noise too. Were they listening, like he was, trying to hear over the confusion to find the source of the disturbance? Could they recognize the sound?

Laitheryn could place the sound, from a memory that occurred long before. When he had traveled with that human ranger, his bow had made a similar noise when the ranger had drawn it. Laitheryn had listened to the noise the bow had made and eventually learned how to place the rangers' location from the sound of the bow alone. It was a subtle noise, one barely distinguishable from the surrounds, but one Laitheryn would always recognize when he heard it.

Only instead of one bow being drawn, there was many. Instead of well constructed bows like the one the ranger carried; it sounded as if many, crude bows and been aimed directly towards them.

Elves would not have made such a mistake; for if the orcs had been paying any attention to their environment they would have noted the humans' presence immediately. This was not the answer Laitheryn had hoped the Valar would send for his prayers. But right now he would definitely prefer the company of humans to orcs. 'Yet the voices speak of danger. I must be wary of them then.'

'_Beware!' _The sand voices yelled.

Before anything else could register, Laitheryn realized he had jumped towards Elladan, Almir and Dinenant and brought them down with the momentum of his body landing on theirs.

In that second that their bodies met, a hail storm of bolts began falling.

* * *

Almir – Sparkling Flame.

Dinenant – Silent Gift


	13. Chapter 13

Laitheryn barely registered Elladans' jump of surprise as the momentum he achieved threw both he, Dinenant and the young Lord to the ground. His attention was focused directly on the shower of arrows that shot, safely, over their heads and right into the stunned crowd of orcs.

Several Orcs screamed in shock and pain as their reflexes were too slow to avoid the attack. Laitheryn could dimly hear their bodies following as bolts sliced through their ancient weak armour and pierced their skin. Another scream, near his location made him jump at the sheer misery behind the wail. Uncontrolled by conscious, Laitheryn glanced towards the sound.

His gaze located the creature that had made the sound, and saw much to his horror that the Orc had several bolts embedded into his skin, all nonfatal shots, meant only to cause pain and a slow death. The orc screamed in pain as its dark blood drained, slowly, onto to the surface of the ground. Its sword lay uselessly next to it as the orc did not appear to have enough strength to lift it, even if it was to quicken its own death.

'It was once an elf…' Laitheryn thought, saddened by the callousness of the second born.

While Laitheryn would not hesitate to rift an orc of its life, he would ensure that its passage into death would be as painless and as quick as possible. The orcs were a cruel and twisted creature, yet it was not their intention to become monsters. They had been elves, tortured into what they had become, and still deserved a quick death over a long and painful one. 'Yet the Adan may not see them as they once existed….They only see them as they are.'

The monsters screams seem to thicken, as the last of its blood drained from its wounds and ensuring that its body gradually shut down as there was not enough of the life fluid to maintain its function. It gave a weak warble before its eyes shut for the last time. Laitheryn offered a quick prayer for its eternal soul before his gaze left the pitiful sight.

His next thought were the elves that had, until recently, been surrounding Elladan, Almir, Dinenant and himself. And he preyed that none had been badly injured by the sudden attack, as it was only he and the Greenwood Elves that had been slightly prepared for the impending assault. Shifting slightly he flickered his gaze around the circle of elves. What he saw pleased him and he thanked the Valar for the inherent kindness in elves for their kin and even those unrelated to them. For, despite the differences between the two realms, the Greenwood elves were crouching over many of the Imladris kin, having brought many to the ground by sudden movement.

Laitheryn sighed in relief, without the Greenwood elves sudden concern for those that resided in the last homely house it was far more likely that many of the party he accompanied would have been gravely injured due to the unexpected attack. Laitheryn privately thanked the Valar for blessing him with the ability to understand nature once more, pleased that he was able to assist his friends, but concerned that the sparse nature of the desert spoke of danger.

A sound echoed in his ears and Laitheryn turned his head in the direction of the noise that had caught his attention. A flicker of something he only could identify by logic passed overhead and he followed the course of this arrow to its target. The orc it targeted evaded it by luck, its shield happened to have found the course of the attack and the silver arrow head reflected harmlessly off of the thick metal.

The orc jumped back, seemingly aware of its luck and threw several dark curses back at those targeting it. Some were in a language that Laitheryn had only heard of and recognized only a few words of the dark tongue. He shivered at the twisted language drifting to his ears and tried his best not to hear it.

Suddenly, while still hurling insults at those 'cowards' around it, the dark orc charged in the direction the original arrow came from. Laitheryn found himself swallowing as he realized the fatal mistake the orc had just made. Orcs were not a smart creature, their intelligence having been driven from them by the darkness that made them, and this one had just exposed his small group, and his back to a counter.

It was not long before several twangs of un-tended bows echoed to him followed by the dying cry of the orc that fell. The one that had left the circle of orcs fell harshly, onto the bloodied grounds of Arda, four bolts cutting through the weak armour on its back and the last bolt was the fatal shot. The fifth arrow found its way through the back of the corrupted elf's neck and had severed the connection between the creatures' lungs and its mouth. It died a second later, as the young elf watched the orcs blood speed out of its wounds and it struggle for the breath that could not come.

Laitheryn found himself hoping that those corrupted by the hands of another would find the peace in death that it had been rift of in life. The Orcs had much pain and many deaths to answer for; yet their actions were not fully their fault. It had been stressed repetitively to Laitheryn during his training that it had not been their will to become Yrch in the first place…and whatever atrocities they had committed after their fall must be partly blamed elsewhere.

Shaking himself of these thoughts the young elf watched the fate of the small circle of orcs. They had assembled in a circle, pressing their small shields together, in hopes that the small pieces of thick metal would protect them from the deadly rainstorm of arrows that fell their way. For a moment it appeared to be working, as some arrows reflected off the shields and missing their targets. The orcs seemed to sneer at the humans in the shadows around them, mocking them for their folly.

From the center of the orcish party, protected from the human assault; some of the orcs found a way to fight back. Laitheryn watched as an opening appeared in the midsized shields of the outside orcs; suddenly a bolt shot through the circle, following several others that had appeared from the orcs.

The blonde elf followed the orc's attempt at a counter attack back to the humans hiding in the darkness. He lost sight of the arrows quickly, as his vision was cut off by many of the crouching Greenwood elves surrounding him. He did not miss the cries of the humans that fell due to the counter attack. One stopped quickly, while the other moaned on for what seemed an eternity until that one too died. Laitheryn sighed, the cries of the dying Adans' sounded so young….to young to be witnessing this kind of battle.

More arrows shot from both parties, and the battle field grew confused with flickers of death coming from both directions. Laitheryn watched as the battle slowly shifted back to the orcs' favour as none of their members fell to human hands. However by the sounds that echoed through the darkness, Laitheryn could tell that some of the humans were being hit.

The darkened creatures hollered at the hidden attackers, a faint sound of victory coming from many of their combined voices. '…Yet the battle is not won….I am unsure on who I wish to win now…it may be that the humans are no different to the orcs.'

It appeared that the humans had noted that their bolts were no longer effective against the orcs. Laitheryn observed as the last bolt flew harmlessly into one of the orcish shields.

The silence that occurred after was unnerving, as he watched the confused orcs send panicked glances all around, looking for their invisible attackers. One of the tallest, and most broadest across, bellowed a challenging note into the surrounding dark. Its call went unheeded and unanswered by the humans that haunted the shattering orcs. 'They are not in position yet. If the orcs were to attack, they could win…yet they will not give up their captives so easily.'

Suddenly a harsh whistle echoed to the left and Laitheryn flickered his gaze in the direction of that sound. This appeared to be a signal of some sort; as a horde of men appeared from the darkness and rushed towards the shattering orcs. The first thing that Laitheryn noted was that they wore an assortment of old leather clothes, browned in age with obvious signs of ill use. He could see the appearance of patches over some sections and bits of twine held some of the sketchier pieces together. These men were not from a trained army, yet appeared to be used to fighting.

Their charge was unanimous and the orcs shrieked as they approached, turning so that their backs were to their companions in an effort to stem the charge.

The orcs raised whatever weapons they had on them, and Laitheryn was still struck with the sheer number that remained. Of the eighty orcs of the combined party, it appeared that only thirty to forty remained. Yet there seemed to be more then double that number of humans. '…The Valar have traded Yrch for Adans…I pray that their intentions for us are not as dire as those of our first captors.'

Laitheryn watched as the humans charged forth, nearly two waves which seemed to crest upon the dark bodies of the orcs, temporarily stopped by the darkened weapons of the foul creatures. As the chaos around him increased Laitheryn was unsure of where to look. A shout attracted is attention and he responded by switching his gaze over there.

A human was being cornered by three orcs. He appeared to be young, younger than some of the other humans he traveled with. In the minds of the orcs, age meant everything. The younger their victim was, the more likely he or she was to be inexperienced and an easy target. This human was no exception to that.

The human youth had dark blonde hair, which was dirtied by the mud that had been smeared on his face to blend him in with the shadows they were trying to imitate. His hair hung in dirty limp locks round his face and shadowed his desperate dark brown eyes. 'This child does not belong here; he has no experience in these matters.'

The youth took a desperate swing at one of the orcs, only to miss as the orc merely stepped out of the way of the clumsy gamble. The youth tried again, having to take a step to reach the offending orc, which was clearly enjoying the youths' attempts to harm it as it laughed as the child missed once more.

Laitheryn knew this method that the orcs were employing on this human. It was an easy tactic, one that anyone with experience would see through. As the youth continued to try to attack one of the orcs, it would move further and further ahead, forcing the victim ahead too. Slowly the orcs would cut the vulnerable fighter off from his group and then surround him, where they would then kill their victim.

Laitheryn knew he had been lucky to survive his own ring of orcs, when they had tried this tactic on him. They had misjudged his age and skill and had ended up dead instead. But this youth was not as skilled as he was and would surely perish.

The boy had gone to attack the lead orc once more, falling further for their trap, when it had finally responded and brought the flat side of its sword down on the boys arm. The boy let lose a scream as his weapon dropped, uselessly to the ground of Arda, and Laitheryn knew in that moment that the boy's fate was sealed; his arm had just been broken. Confirming Laitheryn's suspicions the human instinctively clutched his arm with his other hand, leaving himself completely vulnerable to attack.

The young fighter barely dodged the next attack, falling backwards as the sword swung towards him, ending up on his back on the ground. Laitheryn could almost sense the fear emanating from the child in this moment. Laitheryn watched as the youth desperately scooted backwards and saw the dread forming in the young humans' eyes when his back came in contact with the boot of the orc behind him. The creature gave off a cruel laugh which Laitheryn could hear even from where he resided. The youth's gaze went from fear to one of surety and the elf knew the youth had realized his own mortality in that second.

The human youth seemed to accept this fate as he did not move as the sword descended once more. Instead of flinching away from the deadly weapon once more, and possibly encouraging more pain for his efforts the human boy stayed still and allowed the sword to fall. Laitheryn winced as the humans head flew and rolled away from its body.

The corrupted elves stared as if surprised at how easily they had beaten a child, and then howled in satisfaction. Laitheryn averted his gaze as one reached down and picked up the boy's severed head, he had no wish to see what the orc intention was.

A moment passed and the group that he had been watching gave up a mighty victory cry, which was echoed by the remaining orcs as a way to frighten their enemies. The boy's death was one of only a few orcish victories in this battle.

Helplessly Laitheryn looked elsewhere in the battle, and locked his gaze onto a small group of humans. Of all he had witnessed these seven seemed to be the most skilled and were making the most headway on the orc numbers. There were many brutish bodies strewn behind them as they charged further in to the mass of orcs.

The leader had dulled auburn hair, darkened by the soil that had been poured over him; his soul darkened by the blood that had been spilled over him. The tall human gave no thought to numbers as he gave off a loud war cry before charging with a group of twenty assorted men right into the center of the orc army.

His thick sword flashed in the dull light, following in its wake were droplets of dark pitch coloured blood that had just been rift from an orc corpse. The human spun sharply and blocked the blow coming from his left, bringing the dark blade straight down on the orcish arm in front of him. The orc screamed in pain as it watched its arm be severed, and Laitheryn swallowed his sympathy for the beast.

Instinctively the dark beast clutched its bleeding arm with its other, and howled in a mixture of pain and anger at the red haired human. Before more could move in the Adan spun in another tight circle, the thick sword gaining momentum as he reached his goal. Laitheryn watched as the wounded beasts' head fell away from its body. A second later the dead body collapsed next to the others that had fallen.

The human laughed at the carnage before turning to press another of the faltering orcs with his blade. His sword found another victim and more yrch blood fell and coated the second born.

It appeared to the young elf that these twenty men were the most talented from the army of humans that had surrounded them. Instead of spreading out their talent and helping the weaker members of their group, they stuck together and allowed the others to be killed.

Risking a glance around the battle field confirmed this, for it was littered with both human and orcs, some dead and some dying. Laitheryn could hear the moans coming from those still alive; the symphony of human and orc cries of agony and pain sounding no different from one another. The human fighters and Orcish warriors were in pain and were dying, and their pain at such a callous death was no different.

He watched the dying for a second longer until the sight and the sounds became so unbearable that he looked away, to the only sight he could. Without realizing it Laitheryn had switched his gaze back to the plundering humans and even though they had lost a few members the ferocity of their attack had not waned.

Under the constant pressure from the human fighters the orcs seemed to lose their nerve. As their numbers dwindled down so did their courage, until finally there was only a few left standing. Those still alive turned to flee but the human fighters easily surrounded the unguided orcs and cut any chance of escape off.

The slow orcs seemed to realize this and howled in anger as the knowledge that their lives would end this day. Laitheryn's gaze settled on the dark aurburn haired human once more and watched him callously taunt the orc he was facing off against. The orc bravely dove towards the human, who spun quickly to miss the descent of the large axe like weapon it held.

The orcs weapon fell towards the grounds of Arda, for a split second. The orc howled once more and hefted the axe upwards, on an angle spearing right towards the human fighter. Before it could hit the second born warrior danced backwards and cut the dark weapon clear through, the top of the axe falling uselessly to the ground. The orc's eyes seemed to glaze in panic as it seemed to realize it was now defenceless against the human fighters.

The man cut in once more and before the beast realized what was occurring the human had dragged his sword quickly across the orcs' chest. The cut was not deep enough to kill the beast, and was intentionally inflicted to cause pain.

Beside that defenceless orc, two more fell as human swords found their way past their armour and into their bodies. Laitheryn watched as their life blood slowly drained from their bodies. There was a deep grief in there eyes, as their existence as orcs ended as painfully as their initiation, soon that grief faded as their darkened souls fled away.

Another of the monsters' gave a desperate cry and tried to cut his way to freedom. It succeeded in wounding one of the human warriors, and a human cry joined those of the orcs still alive. The human fell quickly, its cries ending as the orc trampled over it in an effort to escape its certain death.

The dark orc tried to run through the hole in the circle of humans, but its charge was met. As it passed the circle the humans on either side of it reacted. Laitheryn watched as, almost in tandem, one of the human blades swung for its waist, while the other swung for its throat.

Both cruel hits fell almost at the same moment and the young elf watched as the orc was cut almost in half at the first blow, only to lose its head at the second. Black blood spurted up from both injuries, the most coming from where its head used to be. The elf watched as it rained down, like a bloody rainfall on the two humans that had ended its life.

A weak cry turned Laitheryn's attention back to the man he supposed was the leader of the party. The red haired human darted around the third last orc, circling the clumsy beast like a cat, cutting ribbons of its flesh in his wake. His cruel inflictions of his blade were not deep enough to end the creatures suffering, but this human seemed to enjoy watching his prey suffer.

Laitheryn could not help the shudder that coursed through him as he watched the orc suffer the same torture he had under the trees of Mirkwood, cuts merely meant to hurt…not kill. Despite the pain the orcs had caused all of his kin, from the forest realm and from the valley realm; he had never wanted the orcs to suffer as much as these three were. It disgusted him to watch humans that enjoyed death just as much as the orcs that had previously been their guards.

The elf watched as the human brought his flickering sword across the back of the creatures' knees. Before the beast could fall the human darted back around it and seemed to be satisfied that the torture was almost complete. The human smirked towards the fallen orc, apparently aware that the orc's life was slowly and painfully dripping from its multiple wounds.

The orc moaned weakly in pain and gazed up at its killer. Laitheryn found himself comparing the compassion he saw in the humans' face for the amount that the orcs showed to their elven captives. The dying orc seemed to whimper pitifully and the elf found himself wishing that the dark human would finish the creature off, before the wounded soul had to feel more pain.

It was not to be.

With a final laugh the red haired human turned from the adversary and seemed to take scope of the situation behind him…all the orcs were dead or were dying.

"How callous…." Laitheryn whispered.

"I fear for our fate." Elladan whispered back.

* * *

I know…I know…Very late. Very sorry. Please don't hurt me. Don't seem to have much time to type anymore. I've been swamped at my campus…to many classes. I finally decided to drop one of them so I should be able to start updating at a more frequent pace.

Thanks to everyone who read this chapter…and those that have been waiting for this story to update. I really do appreciate your patience and will update every week or every other week from now on.

Laitheryn's section on this story will be ending soon…and I'm wondering whose section to concentrate on next. The three choices are Elladan, Elrond or Thranduil…leave a review and tell me which one you would like to read next.

Next chapter should be more interesting…

As I will explore Laitheryn's history in different stories. I know I've glossed over quite a few things (or have just mentioned them in this story) and I will go back and explain these incidences later on.


	14. Chapter 14

Hi.

I was going to post this chapter on February 3rd, as I hoped I would be finished with the updates for my other two stories too. Unfortunately I managed to get stuck on the 9th chapter for my second Lord of the Rings fics and I was trying to finish it before I posted this chapter. Anyways, I thought it would be mean to stall on my other stories so here is the next chapter.

* * *

After the last orc fell, the humans picked there way past the bodies of their fallen comrades and of the orcs they had killed and headed towards their location. The elf watched as the red haired human ignored the desperate pleas and weak grasps of his dying kin as he passed.

One of the younger Adans, lying in a pool of his own blood reached out and touched the hem of the dark leather tunic of the leader. Without any thought to his age or the pain he was in the callous human brushed past the boy, patting his hands away as if they were an annoying pest and continued onwards. The humans' smirk seemed to grow as he approached the elven captives.

Laitheryn rolled away from Dinenant, Almir and Elladan in preparation for whatever was to occur. He was unsure of what to expect, the last human he had encountered had been relatively friendly, as friendly as a ranger could be. Laitheryn doubted that these humans had the same intentions towards friendship as the ranger he had met over two hundred years ago now.

"Would'ya look at that!" The human started sarcastically.

"What is it you want?" Elladan asked warily for the entire group.

To Laitheryn's complete surprise the human smiled grimly at the dark haired Elvenlord, as if amused by the question. The young elf could see the amusement beginning to die in the humans dark eyes as the apparently young elf did not back down under his gaze.

A second passed with both the human and Elladan glaring at each other, before the human smiled once more. Without changing expression the human backhanded the elf across the face.

Elladan stumbled backwards at the unexpected blow but did not lose his footing completely. A second later Elladan rebalanced as if nothing had occurred, except for the slight red mark on his cheek. Laitheryn could almost feel the young lords' anger beginning to bubble to the surface at the treatment.

"You will learn to respect your new master, elf." The human jeered.

"I respect those that deserve it." Elladan shot back. "And you will never be my master."

'What are you doing, Mellon – nin?!' Laitheryn thought to himself. 'Do not invoke their anger. Let it lie.'

The leader merely laughed at the rebuttal, and seemed to be aware that he was in complete control of the situation, despite what Elladan wished otherwise. "You will learn, slave. Afta'all you owe us for saving your hides from the uglies. 'Sides…Elves fetch a pretty penny for those that can afford it. You all will make us rich."

The humans behind the first cheered at that thought and Laitheryn felt his heart sink right there.

Before he could stop himself he broke into the conversation too. "You claim to have saved us from one form of slavery…only to inflict another upon us?! You are no better than those…'uglies' that lie on the ground!"

"You have a way with words, don't'cha?" The human male spoke up again, the amused tone becoming harsher as the sentence continued. "Good way to get hurt, if you ask me, boy."

"I did not ask for your advice." Laitheryn shot back. "Nor do I wish it."

The red haired human glared at him, sending what he thought to be an intimidating look at him. Laitheryn refused to be swayed by the look and glared back in defiance.

"Why is it the young ones are the most difficult to get along with?" The human asked once more.

"Not enough experience with the outside world, boss." A tall human to the left answered. "Too innocent to know better…will change once he's owned."

"Perhaps." The leader responded in a speculative voice.

"You're talk does not intimidate me." Laitheryn answered flatly.

"…I have no wish to kill you, elf. Afta'all the younger ones sell quicker then the others. But keep talking and you'll join the bodies of the dead and dying."

Laitheryn bristled at the words but bit his lip to avoid speaking up again, wondering what had gotten control of his mouth in that moment. He barely managed to control his sudden temper at being treated like a piece of property. It was not right that these humans thought they owned what they did not. No one could own another soul.

'_What happened to let it lie?!"_ An almost amused sounding voice asked dryly.

The unexpected contact startled Laitheryn and he nearly jumped due to the shock of the elders' voice echoing in his head once more. At their last contact Laitheryn had been sure that this elf would not reach out to him as it seemed to cause the elder great emotional pain.

'_Does not apply to me.'_ Laitheryn answered back.

'_I see' _The voice responded. _'Do not test their patience further.'_

'_Who are you?'_

'_We will talk later.'_

'…_If there is a later.'_

'_Are you not the one that has been speaking of hope?'_

'…_Are you here to mock me?'_

'_Perhaps. And to keep you attention off of sassing the Adans.'_

'…_Hannon le.' _Laitheryn returned in a dry tone.

'_You are very welcome.'_

The conversation seemed to die there and Laitheryn noted that the red haired leader seemed to have left off the challenge and was now inspecting 'their captives'.

"T'is a goodly number. And all seem to be in good condition." The red haired Adan mused once more. "Move out. Make for the outpost in Gondor."

"What 'bout the others?" Another brown haired man asked from further behind the party of humans.

"Let them die…the less of us there are, the more gold we'll get each."

There were several answering smirks and cheers for this statement.

It was not long after that Laitheryn found himself marching away from the desert the orcs had been driving them towards. It did not escape his notice that the route they were traveling on now would lead them back in the direction they had come, directly towards the elven warriors he had summoned from Greenwood. The gloating humans were walking directly towards an ambush and would be unprepared for an elven counter attack.

The elves would be forewarned of the humans approach by the nature that surrounded them.

The soft grasses whispered a comforting melody as he passed and he knew that the message of danger was echoing all over the country side and right to the ears of the Greenwood elves. Laitheryn only wished he could hear some sort of acknowledgement from the Greenwood elves that they would intercept the human army. Yet this talent was beyond the skill level Laitheryn had learned in Lorien. The best he could do was listen to the soft voices that danced on the wind and be ready for the attack.

As he walked Laitheryn tried to keep this thought in his mind, trying to keep his hope alive that all would escape this situation with no more injuries than what had already been given. They would be free soon, and free to travel among their own kin once more. It was only a matter of time.

Yet time was something that Laitheryn found he had less and less of. It had been over a week since he had been taken by the orcs at the southern outskirts of Mirkwood. While this had been his choice, Laitheryn could not help but feel the slow passing of time, and marked it in such a way a human might. He counted the hours that slowly etched by as the sun set and the moon rose to follow the course set by her lover. The more time that passed him by, the more exhausted he felt. Laitheryn was sure that this tiredness he felt around him was a direct result of the wounds he had suffered, and he was not alone...in the eyes of the others, as far as he could see, Laitheryn could see their exhaustion too.

There was still so much he had to do, and time was more of an enemy than before. The most serious concern Laitheryn had was to be free of the captivity the humans had pressed them further with. He then had to find the elf that kept speaking with him. The young elf found himself at a loss at how the two were able to communicate, only that the elder elf seemed to be using the nature surrounding them as a medium to speak.

It was all so confusing and it frustrated the younger elf that he could not establish a connection with the elder elf whenever he wished to. Instead it appeared that the elder had almost hosted the connection, and had direct control of when they could speak. A disturbing thought wormed its way into his head and Laitheryn found himself musing on whether the elder was privy to all his thoughts all the time. In that case the elder may already know exactly who he was.

But…for some reason Laitheryn found himself sure that the elder elf only resorted to connecting with him through nature only if he was in immediate danger and would allow him his privacy when he was not. How he knew this, he did not know…yet Laitheryn was sure it was true.

It almost seemed that their connection caused the elder elf great emotional pain, as if a deep well of grief threatened to overwhelm the elder at any moment. Even in their last conversation, which had been more of a bantering tone; Laitheryn had gotten a fleeting impression of the constant pain his physical and mental presence was causing the elder elf. 'If I upset you, why do you hurt yourself to help me?'

Laitheryn waited a moment to see if the elder would respond to his query. His initial thought was confirmed in those seconds as the mysterious elf did not answer, and, possibly, had not heard his thought. 'Did not hear…or chose not to answer?! Which one is correct?! Ai, this is quite the problem!'

Laitheryn had not missed the possibility that one member in the party of elves that had been captured by the orcs, may be a relative, if not his Adar. It was possible that the connection he felt to the elf that had spoken to him to keep him from further harm was a close relation. 'Mithrandir did say the Valar's work appears as coincidences to those involved…perhaps these current events are an example of their will….Not all the powers in Arda are darkness…light still exists…hope still exists.'

Even with these assured thoughts Laitheryn still felt worry gnawing away at his troubled soul. He, first, had to find his father out of the many Greenwood elves that had gathered. And with the center few he could not make out their features enough to be able to recognize which one, if any, would match his young memory of his Adar. Second, and the most difficult of any tasks, would be trying to convince his relative that he was who he claimed to be, even if he could not claim the name.

As the elf he had come into unexpected contact with had shown no emotional signs of recognition, Laitheryn was sure he would have to be convinced…yet how could he do that if he could not lay claim to his true name? Laitheryn frowned at that thought as he continued to keep pace with Elladan.

"What troubles you, Laitheryn?" Elladan asked, seemingly catching his frown.

"I am musing…and do not like the direction my thoughts went."

"Sharing a problem offers more solutions than hording one."

"…Yet I fear overburdening you in an already desperate situation."

"Small problems lead to bigger ones."

"Are you just reciting your Adar's words?"

"Nay, the words ring true. Despite the number of times they have come from my fathers' lips."

Here Laitheryn sighed and Elladan's concerned look grew deeper. "Do not worry, mellon – nin."

"I do worry." Elladan emphasized.

"There are others that are in more need of your thoughts than I."

"Please, friend…my brother by heart. Allow me access into your thoughts. I do not like seeing you so distressed."

"I still cannot remember the name I was given at birth." Laitheryn stated suddenly.

Elladan looked slightly surprised at his sudden answer. Laitheryn could not blame him; even he was a little surprised that he had responded. Usually he was more secretive than that.

"And…I feel as if I am wasting time. I never marked time as I do now. I count the hours as the sun and the moon circle the earth!" Laitheryn continued.

"Time? Yes I can see why that would cause you much distress. Yet as my Ada would say, the Valars' will is involved even in the littlest of things. You stated you felt as if you were meant to intercept our kin from Greenwood."

"I was trying to reassure Almir. I did not expect for my words to haunt me."

"I would take more stock in what you said. If you arrived any later than that exact time, you would have missed the interception." The elvenlord pointed out. "Perhaps you will find what you seek here."

"…Perhaps."

"Have you had other thoughts?"

"…Only that one of the Greenwood kin may be one of my relatives."

"T'is possible." Elladan mused.

"I pray I will recall in time." Laitheryn murmured softly to himself, although he knew the comment had been heard. "Yet I fear I will not."

Despite his best efforts, Laitheryn had not been able to pick his name up from the confused babble of flickering memories of trees and elvenfolk that lived under the canopies. He knew it was spoken, yet the confusion in his mind did not allow the knowledge he had locked away to surface to this awake mind.

There was something there, a pressing grief, an agony that he barely felt that lay just below the surface…something so sad he had feared to remember for so long. But he could not fear now…not when he was so close…not if it would risk other lives. The grief of the past he barely remembered, while strong, was not enough to force him to abandon his memories once more. Because, while he was content as Laitheryn, there would always be a part of him that would yearn for the truth…and he would never be complete until he recalled what it was that so haunted him.

He had to remember, and remember on his own. Laitheryn was sure he would rejoice to hear his name, and would know it was his if it was spoken to him now; but a part of him wanted to remember on his own and, perhaps, would feel some sort of failure that he had not been able to recall.

"You are still thinking about that?" Elladan asked in a surprised note. "My Ada's right…you are one of the most stubborn elves that have graced Middle Earth."

"….I am persistent….not stubborn. And yes, it does haunt my thoughts. How can I claim myself if I do not have a name I can recall. I would not believe it if I were among their numbers. I would think it was a cruel joke."

"…or perhaps they would think it was a blessing. And look at it this way, Gwador- Nin."

"What?"

"They're not staring at you anymore." Elladan answered with a cheeky smile.

"….Don't remind them!" Laitheryn responded in a whisper. "They just stopped!"

He sent a slightly panicked look around to the members of the Greenwood elves that were in the same predicament he was. A few tense heartbeats later Laitheryn relaxed as none had seemed to take note of the conversation and their gazes had not subsequently returned to him.

"BE QUIET SLAVE!!" One of the humans yelled. "WE DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK!!"

Laitheryn did not respond but kept his gaze locked on the ground ahead of him, to avoid the angry humans' eyes. The voices of nature whispered at the Greenwood elves discontent at their situation and Laitheryn could pick up the edges of a soft song that was being sung by the grasses in an effort to soothe the first born who still had the inborn gift of hearing the call of nature. He relaxed under the calming winds, mixed with the whispering song and Laitheryn found his thoughts drifting once more, now calmer and less distressed as the music echoed in his mind.

Despite this thought giving him confidence Laitheryn knew it would be some time before the two armies would intercept and he would be left relatively alone with his thoughts until they did. The humans seemed content with the elves bound, and seemed to ignore them as they traveled.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he risked a glance towards the sky and was surprised to find that the night had drifted by without him realizing and the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon ahead of them. It was a welcome sight and Laitheryn found himself in awe as the colours of dawn danced across the wavering grasslands and onto the assortment of elves and humans that stood below.

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Well another chapter done…We're getting closer and closer to the final chappie….Get your votes in for which point of view you would like to read next. This chappie was easier to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it, please review.


	15. Chapter 15

I know it's very late.

I've had extreme writers block for this story. But more particularly Getting Out Of Trouble. I am working to update though. So sorry for the wait

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He sat on the ground, after the Adans allowed them a few hours to rest. More likely they were tired and needed that time, in the few hours after dawn to regain the strength they had lost during their attack on the orcs and in the forced march afterwards.

Even as he sat down, Laitheryn was aware that he too was exhausted, aware of the heat that was beginning to radiate from his body; enough so that he was uncomfortable and was restless for several minutes. He had shifted several times, and sent an apologetic look as Elladan stirred awake and sent a worried look towards him.

Laitheryn had glanced back, blinking away the blurring colours from his vision as his eyes clouded over once more.

"You are suffering." Elladan whispered, aware that the humans were near enough to hear.

If they realized that he had injuries inflicted by the cruel whips of the young orc that had failed the test that had been set by his elders, and as a result it had lost its life. If the humans realized that he was injured, they may decide that he would not be worth the effort to bring to their outpost. They may leave him, tied and alone in the wilderness, and at the mercy of whatever wild animal, or other beast, that happened upon him.

The nicer option, though not another one of Laitheryns' favourites, was that the humans would kill him and continue on. He could die, and never know his name as he entered the halls. Laitheryn found himself wondering if he would even by accepted by Mandros, as an elf that could claim no family, or his name. And if the Lady of Light was right, then his Adar would soon fade and they would forever be apart.

"Laitheryn?"

"Aye. I feel the after affects of….that incident."

Elladan gazed at him solemnly for a moment before nodding in understanding. "You have a fever. The wounds have become infected. It is too dangerous to allow the humans to see."

"I will be fine. It is merely a slight fever." Laitheryn responded. "Be thankful it is not a toxin however. For those affects would be far worse in this situation."

"…A slight fever." Elladan responded in a flat, disbelieving note. "Your definition of 'slight' is confused."

"An oversight that you and your brother taught me."

The conversation seemed to end there as Laitheryn found himself drifting into a deep sleep, listening to his friends' voice and the whispering winds that swelled over them. To him it felt like he had merely closed his eyes for a moment, before he began drifting in the winds of his memories, suppressed and those he remembered.

His mind first drifted back to Lothlorien to the three golden haired brothers he had left standing on the edges of the golden forest, watching him as he fled from their vision. He could still feel the edges of the grief that echoed from them as he left, with no intention of returning. Lothlorien would not change, even if centuries drifted by before he could return. There would be changes to those that lived under the care of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Some would leave for the Undying Lands and, hopefully, more elflings would be born.

Even now he was still considered one of the youngest elves on Middle Earth. It seemed as the years passed that the elves, sensing their time was ending in these lands, did not add to the numbers of elves. There were few that Laitheryn could think of that were in his age range; Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Orophin, Rumil and his few friends that he distantly remembered from Greenwood.

Laitheryn felt as if he had blinked and he was back in the village near the river. He could recall standing by the river, following its course with his eyes, trying to see where he could have come from. The river vanished into a forest and he could not discern where it ended, or started.

He had been told by one of the men of the village that the forest was named Greenwood, but it had fallen upon dark times and the elves of that forest had darkened too, and it was not considered wise to wander there as the elves were known to shoot any who they did not know.

Envoys had been made to that forest, from other towns close to this one, yet they were all turned away at the borders by the never ending patrols.

Laitheryn recalled how he always wished to join up with one of those envoys, just to have a chance to get close to one of his kin, yet he was not old enough at that point to even have a chance at going.

The old lady that he had met first had came to his side and had led him away from the swelling sides of the pale water and back to her house, warning him to stay away from the deep waters. It was many years before he learned, completely how to swim.

It had taken him many years before he was willing to brave swimming with the other youths of the village, as whenever he entered the stream and the water brushed his face, he could recall a feeling of panicked fear, yet could not explain that emotion, only that he had fled the waters several times before he forced himself into the waters and submerged himself completely. It had been several generations into his stay in the village.

Laitheryn knew that the village had changed from that childish vision he was recalling, it had changed a lot during his stay there, growing from a small collection of houses to a town at the end of his stay. Even now he knew in his mind that his memory of the place he had been raised would have changed further, if it had not been destroyed by the fires of the enemy that had been creeping closer and closer to the free races of Arda.

He knew it was an after affect of the fever he was suffering from, but it felt as if he was being rocked by the breezes around him and Laitheryn found himself drifting back. He allowed his gaze to glaze over as he continued to be soothed by the disconcerting calming feeling occurring around him.

His mind now supplied a new image, of standing in a deep forest, watching the sun flicker through the dark foliage which sent a whispering tapestry onto the ground below. A whisper occurred above him and he recalled catching the ball that emerged from the tree above him before running with it, laughing as he was chased.

He could recall the feeling of melting into the camouflage of the trees, jumping from the ground and nimbly running up the tree trunk to his left. Laitheryn could not recall how he had actually landed in the branches, other than he had somehow found his way up the tree, gripping onto whatever hand holds he could find.

Laitheryn remembered as he than jumped from tree to tree, easily navigating the channels of the forest foliage as easily as he had with the golden trees, confident with the direction he was heading. He could recall fleeing, laughing as he was chased by his friends, who were seeking the ball he was holding, heading towards some sort of mark where a point would be scored.

There had been two teams, five members per team. He had been the point taker, the only one that could score in the goal. It was the task of the other members of his team to protect him from discovery by the other team, not that he had been helping matters very much, by laughing and giggling as he had been chased. He smiled at the excitement of the child he had been.

The last thing he had recalled before Laitheryn had drifted off to sleep was that he had been caught by a member of the opposing team, as his Ada's strong arms circled him he had thrown the ball to one of his team mates, trying desperately to head off the 'attack' but being to late. He recalled his Ada's groan as the ball was taken and it quickly disappeared into the forest, in the arms of the elf had caught it.

"I have won, Ada." His voice as a youth drifted to him.

"You did not score a point."

"Aye. But you do not have the ball."

And the elder elf laughed and Laitheryn found himself smiling slightly at the sheer joy of that sound.

He caught another sight of his father in those seconds, as the elder laughed full out at the words Laitheryn had spoken many years ago now. There must be more memories like this one, where only they alone would know what was said. Something, anything he could use to prove to his father that his son had not died as an elfling.

His fathers' eyes, reflecting the colour of the green leaves that hung over thier heads, as the trees' bent closer to the two of them, offering some sort of protection against prying eyes. Laitheryn remembered as his father picked him up and balenced him against his hip, leaning against the tree trunk as they both listened to the voices of nature drifting to them.

Did someone in the Greenwood group of elves have those eyes that Laitheryn remembered so vividly. Something inside of him answered with a resounding yes, that he had met his fathers' gaze at some point during their unplanned travel. Laitheryn's frowned to himself, thinking deeply, and searched for the answer that would not come. And he found himself dozing off once more, under the now cool earth he was lying agianst.

He knew no more, until hours later when he was shook awake by Elladan.

Laitheryn blinked as his mind began to catch up with the hours that had passed. It now appeared to a few hours after the mid point of the day, and the sun was heading to its final location in the sky before he set once more, until a new day. To him it felt as if he had only just closed his eyes, before being forced awake once more.

Elladan quickly helped him to his feet, before the red haired human noticed that he had not arisen as quickly as the other elves that stood around him. Laitheryn reluctantly accepted the help, ignoring the urge to flinch as his injuries seemed to irritate at the motion.

Despite the weather being neutral, it now felt as if the sun were shining down directly on him, draining him of energy in the process. 'It is merely a fever. I must continue! Yet…I feel so exhausted….so drained. I must continue.'

"Strength, mellon nin." Dinenant whispered. "This will end soon."

The words seemed so distant to him, as if they had been spoken from a great distance, and not by one standing just a few feet from him. It seemed as if they took a long time to get to him…as if they had been carried by the winds.

"….Aye." He responded finally.

"Have hope." The quiet leader spoke again.

"I try."

There were no more words spoken by those that Laitheryn stood with, and he was barely aware that the Imladris elves had quickly surrounded him, closing off the humans' vision of the center of the group. They were giving him time to recover whatever strength he could, before they would be forced to move onwards.

Unfortunately the Adans would not be as slow as the Yrch and would soon realize that the elves were protecting a select few at the center of their individual groups. Even though the groups of elves were standing closer than before, there was still some distance between the groups and Laitheryn wondered if anything would close in the distance between the estranged kin.

He would not abandon his friends, no matter what was expected of him. He valued friendship, no matter who it was from, and would not disregard it because it was expected, or it was an uncommon friendship. Whoever he was related too would have to respect that from him, he would not abandon any of his friends.

One friendship that Laitheryn immediately thought of was the one that grew between the ranger he had happened upon and himself, over two hundred years ago now. He found himself wondering what had happened to that human after they had parted ways. For despite his thoughts drifting to that specific human many times over, they had not re met, though Laitheryn always wished him well.

Slowly he started moving once more, concentrating to place one foot in front of another, and not stumble over the hidden obstacles on the ground. Usually he had good balance, and could almost sense something on is path before it became an issue. Yet now his sense was uncertain, as if it was distant, and its warnings sometimes came too late to help and he stumbled.

Laitheryn knew he would have fallen, several times had it not been for his quick balance as well as the hands of his friends that steadied him, before withdrawing before it was noticed by less friendly eyes.

Most of his attention went to simply walking following the feet of the elf just ahead of him, watching to see if he moved subtly to one direction of the other. It was, sometimes, the only warning he had that something was coming up on his path and he had to be wary.

This continued for many hours, as the sun lazily drifted across the sky and soon sat near the horizon, beginning to become a brilliant orange colour as it grew closer and closer to the land. Ahead of him Laitheryn could barely pick out the sickle shape of the moon, just beginning to appear, far away from her lover, but desperate to catch up.

The humans continued onwards, uncaring of the dangers of the increasing night. Laitheryn followed them, finding the cooling air of the setting sun much more comfortable than the heat that had been with him all day. Laitheryn closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing breeze blowing on his uncovered skin.

Feeling a soft hand resting on his left shoulder he reluctantly opened his eyes and forced himself to continue onwards, lest he fall from the center of the group that had surrounded him, and come under the scrutiny of the eyes of their new captors.

Laitheryn lifted his gaze from the feet of the elf ahead of him and sent a tired glance towards Dinenant before he lowered his gaze once more. It seemed the further Laitheryn walked the more hope he could almost feel draining out of him, yet he refused to give up completely. 'Have hope….I will not give up! Not now…'

The sun vanished completely, yet the humans continued. They seemed confident in their surroundings, moving with feet that were sure of the terrain that lay beneath them. Laitheryn wondered how many years they had walked this self same path. He then wondered about those that had found their way into their clutches and had been sold into slavery.

It cooled further and the humans eventually decided between themselves that another rest was called for. Laitheryn almost missed the signal, having been concentrating completely on where he was going. He had to admit it had gotten easier as night fell, as the sun vanished and the amount of heat he had suffered began to diminish. Yet as the night fell he found another problem, it suddenly became harder to see the unseen obstacles as the moon's light was not strong enough to light enough of the ground ahead of him. It was a blessing, yet a curse at the same time; Laitheryn found himself musing.

He was about to step onwards when an arm was rested on his arm and he was gently directed to sit. Laitheryn found himself grateful as he was off his feet and he slowly relaxed. After a moment of gaining his breath he shifted from resting his cheek on his shoulder to the ground. He curled up, becoming less aware of his surroundings as the feeling of helplessness swallowed him up once more. He could almost sense Elladan's concern growing, yet it almost seemed to be too much effort to answer right now. He was so tired.

He found himself blinking in exhaustion and could hear himself answering Elladan's whispered question, but he could not hear what he had stated. Laitheryn drifted away, listening to the soft song that was sung to him by Elladan and Almir, shutting his eyes against the pain that was growing inside of him.

It seemed hours later when he returned to consciousness, at least enough to have sensed the motion and the words occurring near him. At first he was unsure if he had awoken or was listening to a conversation in his past.

"He is getting worse." A voice whispered.

Laitheryn frowned as he listened, even as he lay he could hear the silent rebuke directed to his friend. The voice was calm, yet the accusation could still be heard within.

"You are failing." The same voice returned, without interruption.

"Hush, lest you wake him." Elladan whispered.

'I am awake.' Laitheryn thought.

Yet he knew the voice, and was quickly able to clarify his momentary confusion. It was not a recently recalled memory, but a voice he had heard in his past.

He frowned, trying to bring the name of the calm elf that was speaking quietly to the young elven lord. It was someone he had known as a youth, yet not someone he felt any particular connection too.

Laitheryn noticed that the pitch in the voice had dropped, as if the Greenwood elf had taken the reproach seriously, and did not wish to wake him. It seemed too much effort to speak.

"We are doing the best we can, without being able to see the injury, there is not much I can do to lesson his discomfort."

"Is it serious?"

"Just a fever due to the infection of his wounds, nothing that cannot be treated with common herbs and rest." Elladan reassured. "It will not threaten his life…unless left untreated for many more days."

"How long do you gather that the interception will occur?" Almir asked.

"How did you know of their approach?" The familiar, yet unfamiliar voice asked a faint curious note growing.

"Laitheryn told us. But he has not spoken of it since the Adans' have captured us." Elladan responded.

"Laitheryn? Is that what you call him?"

"By what name would you know him by?" Elladan pressed.

"…………….Be prepared, the riders move into position."

Laitheryn closed his eyes once more, saddened and yet almost content. There was the proof he wished that the Greenwood elves knew him, or thought they knew him. He was almost content that they had not spoken his name, for he still wished to discover it on his own.

He drifted away once more, barely registering that the voices continued, but he did not really hear what was being said, only that it would soon be over. Lest he hoped it would end soon.

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Well…another chapter done. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters are left…but there are not many left. Please review and tell me what you think. I will respond to reviews left, thanks for leaving. Next chapters is another fighting one…but the captured elves shall finally be free. YAY! And the end of the story will then be in sight.

Anyways for the next story in this series, I've been seriously thinking about it. I've come up with a method that I might write it in. I was thinking about writing Elladan's point of view from when his patrol was attacked and he and his group captured by Orcs. His story would end when he met up with the Greenwood elves and Laitheryn woke as it would be very difficult to repeat those circumstances without it becoming dull and repetitive.

Elronds' story would then start from him getting the news from the members of the patrol that escaped and until he met up with the freed group.

Thranduils' story would be his entire story…from his envoy being captured to the actual end of Laitheryn's story.

Tell me what you think of that idea.


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